Rinse, repeat
by TanyaVDG
Summary: Set long after S6 finale. Bonnie can't help feeling her life fell apart the moment Kai showed up at Jo's wedding. She spends her days lonely and miserable until she's given a second chance. Is there a way to repair something that seems irrevocably broken? Bonnie's POV. M for a reason! BonKai.
1. Nostalgia

**December 2017**

Do you ever feel stuck with your life? Not feeling stuck as paralyzed by fear or stuck as not knowing what to do temporarily, but feeling stuck as watching your life like a movie in fast-forward, seeing people around you come and go, knowing they all change and move on eventually while you just stand there, frozen in time like a useless statue, wasting air and space? Do you ever feel like you are drowning underwater, screaming and kicking desperately, waiting for someone to pull you out, only to sink deeper and deeper, knowing you're going to die, no matter how hard you try to reach the surface?

Ok, that escalated quickly. I don't want to sound so desperate but the thing is, I'm desperate and I can't even hide it anymore. I don't even try. I'm stuck, I'm frozen and I'm drowning oh so slowly and agonizingly. Yeah, I sound cool, I know. I'm fun at parties too, guessed that right. (This has officially become creepy. See? I talk to myself. I should go out more. Or not.)

Sometimes I wonder: when it did it go all awry? When had things become so bad that I couldn't even recognize myself anymore? I'm not sure. Maybe it was the day when the Salvatore brothers came to Mystic Falls. Maybe it was when I found out I was a witch. Maybe it was when my Grams died. Or when my friends turned to creatures I used to read about in dark tales when I was a little girl. Or maybe it was when I died over and over again, leaving a small part of me behind every time I came back from the other side. Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't a certain moment but a long process which wrecked me slowly but surely until I couldn't find my way back from the rabbit hole. Guess what, Alice. Wonderland is not so great after all.

I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, frowning at myself. I look just the same I used to but also, I look completely different. I don't really care about my appearance, not anymore. When I was in high school, I liked what I saw in the mirror. When I walked past one, I always stopped and stared for a minute because my reflection made me feel happy and confident, sexy even, at least on better days. Now it just makes me feel sad, reminding of a happier and healthier version of me while I know that version is long gone, leaving behind only an empty shell of the woman I used to be. Now I'm all hard lines and rigid mouth and I've-seen-everything eyes. I close them and try to steady my breathing. Try to relax.

Sometimes I like to pretend that if I concentrated long enough, that if I really wanted it to happen, my old self would stare back at me from the mirror when I re-opened my eyes. It never does yet I try over and over again. I played it as a child a lot when I wished to be someone else, someone older, more exciting and confident. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Do you ever get nostalgic? Because I do lately. I do a lot. My Grams once told me that the term 'nostalgia' is originated from the Greek words 'nostos' and 'algos' which means 'return' and 'misery'. Nostalgia is basically the misery we feel when we think about things that happened in the past; we feel it because we know we can't go back ever again and knowing it hurts. I don't know if I'm making any sense right now. All I know is that lately I think about the old times a lot and I feel a dull heartache because I can't stand the thought that this is my life now, this horrid, messed up, achingly boring and empty existence is mine to bare while the girl I used to be was full of hopes and plans and got excited when she thought about her future. She shouldn't have, I scoff bitterly at my own reflection. I could probably use a drink or two, so I head toward the kitchen.

Since these intense nostalgic feelings have started to gnaw at me lately, I've become painfully aware that I always under-appreciated happy moments in life when I was younger and careless, before everything just happened and blew up in my face. I had a great life with a promise of a bright future, yet I'd always found a reason to complain and suffer, like every teenage girl in the world, ever. Shocker, I know. I wasn't worse than any of them but I still feel remorse about it.

Now I look back and laugh humorlessly about the time in 9th grade when I got into a huge fight with Elena over basically nothing. I had studied for an important test for a week while Elena just made light of it, ending up copying my answers. Being the favorite of Mrs. Williamson, she got an A and I got a C because Mrs. W. assumed I was the one who'd copied, not the other way around. I remember clearly Elena sitting there, staring at the teacher doe-eyed and acting all innocent, not showing any intention to confess. That she-Judas, I thought, completely taken aback by her actions. I was so upset that I couldn't talk to her for like two weeks, not until she apologized a thousand times.

Or the time I went to shopping with Caroline and was naive enough to show her the dress I wanted to buy for the next ball, the dress for which I had been saving for weeks because it was a very expensive designer piece. Caroline bought the dress the next day for herself and when confronted, she had the nerve to try to play it off, like it was no big deal and I was just throwing a tantrum over nothing. I was so furious that I "accidentally" made out with the guy at the ball she wanted to hook up with, too eager to teach her a lesson. Unfortunately Caroline Forbes doesn't have a reputation for nothing and we would've got into an old-fashioned catfight if it wasn't for Elena. Now I get tears when I think about these silly little childish memories. I want to go back to these days so badly, I want to hold them tight and tell them that I don't care about the test or the stupid dress - which was too pink for me anyway, quoting Caroline -, or that I really don't care about anything, I just love them so much and we will be alright, everything will be alright.

But it's not, not in the slightest. Elena is lying in a coffin in my basement like a real-life Sleeping Beauty, only instead of waiting for her Prince Charming to kiss her, she waits for her BFF to kick the bucket (such a fairy tale our life is, isn't it) and Caroline is long gone from Mystic Falls, traveling around the world and making that carpe diem-thing happen for her. Sometimes she sends me a message, babbling about art and music and all the beauty she's seen, but I'm less and less able to understand her. Don't get me wrong, I'm genuinely happy for her and I always will be, but it doesn't change the fact that we can't really connect anymore. She has moved on and I'm stuck, simple as that is, and frankly I don't blame her at all. I should do the same, I really should. I pour myself a shot of vodka and knock it back, grimacing as it burns its way down my throat, although the sensation quickly fades away. It always does and it does faster and easier every single time. I shouldn't already refill, but I still do, for shame.

So how did you end up like this, Bonnie?, you might wonder. What happened to the Bonnie Bennett everyone adored back then? What happened to strong Bonnie, I'll-save-everyone-hero-of-the-day Bonnie, Don't-worry-I'll-gladly-sacrifice-myself-again Bonnie, Sure-I-can-handle-this-anchor-stuff-with-the-creepy-dead-people-using-me-as-a-gateway-to-Narnia-no-big-deal Bonnie? (You're welcome, creepy dead people, by the way.) What happened, you ask? Malachai Parker, that's what happened.

I don't know which was the moment when things started to go irrevocably bad in my life but I definitely know which was the one when I knew that there was no turning back and we are not going to be okay, not ever again: it was when Kai showed up in all of his cold and manic glory at his sister's wedding and ended it in the cruelest way one could imagine. Being a sucker for dramatic exits, he was also kind enough to put my best friend into permanent sleep until I die, like, you know, as a departure gift for me, because according to him, somewhere along the way I'd become the bane of his existence. But enough with Kai Parker already. He doesn't deserve to be remembered at all. That sick fuck. (Aaaand there goes the fourth shot, or was it the fifth? Whatever. I suck at math.)

Who am I kidding, I can never help myself once I've started to think about him. One single passing thought of Kai and I'm doomed for the day. Thinking of him makes me hysterical and dead inside at the same time. I try to not overanalyze his actions, obsess over the time we spent in 1994, the things he said and did, the things _we_ did (ohgodwhy?), I try really hard not to think about him at all but it only works when I'm sober and I'm definitely not sober right now. Okay, so maybe I should make an exception, just for tonight and think about Kai Parker on purpose, because I don't feel like avoiding, lying and hiding, not tonight. Tonight I feel like torturing myself, drowning in agony and self-hatred while I drink myself into oblivion all alone. (What can I say? This is my kind of Friday night lately. Also, 'fun' is my middle name.)

"Tonight is the night when Bonnie Bennett is embarrassing herself!" One may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, my Grams used to say often, so I select an Ace of Base playlist and turn up the volume to maximum instantly, because ain't no embarrassing 90's soul-searching party without Ace of Base. Just another guilty pleasure of mine recently, listening to cringeworthy music from the 90's while getting drunk. Hey, don't judge me, I could have stranger hobbies! There are people out there who kill their family members while having a blast, right?

I dance around my living room and sing along, _aaalll that she wants, is another baby, yeeeaaaahh_ , and I don't even bother with the shot glass anymore, I drink straight from the bottle. Damon would be sooo proud of me. Well, not that proud, I reconsider, as I slip and fall down onto the carpet, spilling my drink all over it.

But back to the task at hand. Embarrassing myself will be easy, I smirk to myself in my drunken stupor. How about a really embarrassing memory? Something embarrassing enough to get me sick by even thinking about it? Oooh, I've got a hardcore one. Hardcore on the "I would never tell anyone, ever" level. Ookaaay, so here goes nothing: when I met Kai in the 1994 prison world, I had it bad for him. Reaaaal bad. So bad that I actually kind of slept with him, even after I figured out he'd killed half of his family and I didn't do it _entirely_ against my will.

Don't think for a moment I was under the impression that he was some misunderstood but overall nice guy, or that he was redeemable, oh I wasn't. When I first met him and saw the slightly manic gleam in his eyes, the calculating coldness in his mile-wide smile, I felt the unmistakeable aura of someone dark and dangerous and malevolent, yet those qualities just made him even more appealing. And even if I didn't see these signs, I still knew that he was there for something. (Not exactly murdering half of his family, but...something.) I wish I could say that after it turned out what he'd done, my attraction stopped, but it didn't. Yes, I hated him, I felt disgusted, I felt sick and dirty by even being in his presence, but did I stop feeling the sexual tension? No, I didn't, and I hated myself for it. I still do. Never in my entire life I felt so betrayed by my own body.

Caroline and Elena would be absolutely shocked to hear this dirty piece of info, not that they would have any right to judge, given their own choices in the past (or in the present, right Caroline?). And hey, it's not like I saw him as boyfriend material, I just wanted to have him purely in sexual ways. Which absolves my behavior, because...? Oh God, it can't be defended, no matter how hard I try. I sound ridiculous. What would I say to explain myself if anyone knew that formerly goody-two-shoes Bonnie Bennett was pining for a homicidal sociopath? "Oh yeah, I know it's a real bummer, but make no mistake, my dear friend, it's not like I wanted to go out with him! How dare you accuse an innocent girl like me of such disgusting behavior! Oh the scandal! I merely wanted a quickie with that children-murdering lunatic! See? No biggie!" People would call me crazy if they could hear my thoughts. It's probably not healthy. I should really go out more.

I must have found Kai so attractive because of his unapologetic behavior. He was like, "I murdered a few of my relatives, so what? There is still enough Parker scum on this planet, don't get your panties in a twist, Bonbon!". He just didn't care. It was unnerving and fascinating at the same time and also completely vomit-inducing, inexcusable and just pure evil, but it was still a new concept for me, to say. It was somehow...exciting, in a twisted and sickening way? Ok, I guess I took 'exciting' a tad more far than anyone should take it, like, ever. Leave it to Bonnie Bennett to have a bad boy crush once in her life in the name of excitement and let her choose Kai Parker, lovechild of Satan (and a Calvin Klein model, to be fair).

The almost empty glass I've been holding hits the hardwood floor with a loud crush and shatters into tiny little pieces. It snaps me out of my good mood in a millisecond and I start to sober rapidly. You're just hilarious, Bonnie, you really are, when you are laughing about that someone, who messed up your life big time, murdered a lot of innocent people, mostly his relatives, also made it impossible to hear the voice of your best friend ever again, looks like a fucking Clavin Klein model! Are you mad? Are you freaking out of your mind?

I reach down to pick up a particularly big piece of glass from the floor and proceed to cut my middle finger. Great, just great. I let out a frustrated cry. I really shouldn't drink because apparently it makes me dumb enough to forget that I have magic so I don't really need to touch shattered glass with my bare hands. I whisper a spell half-heartedly and a moment later the glass is intact on my coffee table once again once again, but I pay no mind to it because my thoughts travel back to Kai and 1994, Portland.

I knew from the start that Kai Parker meant trouble. I knew that I should act accordingly and hide my perverse fascination with him. And I knew I was a bad actress because he flirted with me heavily and - against my better judgement - I flirted right back. I enjoyed and even encouraged it because I was bored and he was hot, sue me. It was all fun and innocent until it turned out that he was actually one of the biggest psychos I've ever met (and _that_ is saying something).

After that discovery I started to hate him with every fiber of my body, and it wasn't just because of what he had done. Surely I was sickened by his actions and was hell bent on never letting him escape, but the root of my hatred and my motivation for keeping him at the prison world was deeper and more… personal than my usual urge to save the world from one more sick creature with dark magic and even darker intentions because duh, that's what Bonnie Bennett does all the time. No, it was more than that. I hated him so much because he knew he'd got under my skin and he enjoyed it too much, like it was a private joke which only the two of us could understand. I wanted to slap him to death every time he flashed his stupid self-righteous smirk at me. I felt ashamed, angry, exposed, turned on and most of all, dirty, because he was mocking me with the desire I felt for him, and no matter how hard I tried to act mature and businesslike, he saw right through me. I tried to act like I was above him in every way, like I was a pristine little princess and he was an annoying piece of gum stuck to my shoes but it didn't work because he just owned up to being a piece of wreck and dirt and mocked me anyway. Those kind of mind games didn't work on him because, well, sociopath, but he appreciated me trying. It was written in every mischievous look of his, every obvious wink at me, every suggestive joke he made at my expense just how entertained he felt by the conflict he caused within me, and the angrier and bossier I got, the more satisfied he seemed. With Kai Parker, I felt like a deer caught in a flashlight and it was frightening because there was nothing I could do to convince him how much I didn't care about him.

Soon the world starts to spin uncontrollably around me as I get lost in the memories of one particular day, half asleep already and finally completely numb, consumed by alcohol and nostalgia.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey guys! Thank you all who've read it! Sorry for the mistakes I probably made because as much as I'd like to think I'm a decent writer and have mad English skills, this is not my native language so there has to be a lot of awkward phrasing but I promise you the plot is crazy good so it might worth to bare with me. I have it all planned out, most of the story is already written in parts but I have to translate every chapter from my language to English which will probably take a lot of time, not to mention I have exams right now so I shouldn't even be here... I have no idea when chapter 2 will be up but reviews definitely won't hurt the process ;)_


	2. Pillar of Salt

**A/N: Just to make it clear: this chapter is set between 6X04 and 6X05. (Which means by this time Damon and Bonnie already know about Kai's past and being a siphoner but not that they don't need him to get back home because he doesn't know the spell.)**

I should probably warn you that this chapter (and from now on, this story occasionally) has very mature content. Bonnie is not innocent or virginal and Kai is…well, Kai. I'm just trying to say it's not cute. At all. So please just stay clear if it's not your cup of tea! Also trigger warning, dubcon in this chapter!

* * *

 **October 2014/May 1994**

Despite all odds and experiences, I have never been the kind to hold intuitions in high esteem when it comes to situations where I need to make decisions fast. You'd probably think that being a powerful witch comes with certain supernatural privileges, like having some kind of sixth sense to protect me from dangerous situations or at least alert me when shit is about to hit the fan so I could avoid, you know, getting killed on occasion, but the truth is, despite my intuitions and first impressions usually being right, I'm also the kind of person who always ends up acting impulsively because good old Bonnie is bound to give in to the urge of putting on a brave face and she'd rather die than go down without a fight, insights and cautions be damned.

The same happens when I wake up with a start in Portland at no other time than the early hours of May 10, 1994 (bet you didn't see that date coming). I don't understand why my heart is pounding in my ears so loud that it makes me feel lightheaded, why my sheets are soaked in sweat and why all of my senses are crazy alerted, I just know instinctively that something isn't quite right. "There is something downstairs", repeats a frightened voice in my head.

Like a wild animal trapped in a cage, I lie still and listen, rapid heartbeats drumming in my ears, hands sweaty and clenched, body ready to fight or flight. Nothing happens for a couple of agonizingly slow minutes while the most irrational and random thoughts are passing through my mind. " _If I was murdered, would my carcass disappear the next day or would it rot on the bed until there was nothing but bones and dried blood on the sheets? Is there an afterlife in this place? Would I want there to be? What if I would exist as a ghost and watch Kai Parker of all people relive the same day until eternity ends in some way? What if it won't end?"_ When the thought of Kai pops into my head, I force myself to end this irrational panic attack. " _Chill the F out, Bonnie. There is literally almost no one else in the world but you. It's not like there are burglars down there robbing the house, right? Calm down. It was probably just Damon. Or a bad dream. That's all."_

It can't be Kai. He wouldn't risk violating the pact we've made last week because he knows too well that I'm his only chance to get back to reality. The pact is quite simple: he has to stay the hell away form us if he wants to get out of the prison world until Damon and I can come to an agreement about him. This basically means Damon tries to convince me nonstop it's still better to let Kai come home with us than rotting here forever. After almost a week of constant arguing, I start to break under the pressure but I'm still not quite there.

So far the pact's been working because it's in our mutual interest not to sabotage each other. We need Kai because he knows the spell and he needs us because I have magic. He gave us a week to sort out our (my) moral problems and so far we haven't heard a word of him. Based on what I've seen of him, it's highly unlikely he would throw cold water on the agreement. He might be a sociopath but he's not stupid. He knows my desire to go home will eventually win over my averseness of letting him go back and kill the rest of his family.

I listen tensely, waiting for the tiniest noise that would prove me wrong but I hear nothing except for silence; creepy, unnaturally sharp, maddening silence which I would normally find unnerving but for once I'm thankful for it. I try to move slow and stop dead in my tracks when the floor creaks under my feet but again, nothing happens. After letting out a breath I didn't know was holding, I start my daily rituals with putting on a pair of denim shorts with matching boots and one of the hundreds of checked shirts I own in this messed up reality. I think about how I would die of embarrassment if anyone from 2014 saw me like this. I am a cowgirl-hat and a guitar away from looking like a country singer, ready to break out in a song about my broken heart.

When I finally gather the courage and walk down to the kitchen, the only indicator of someone being there is the sound of water running in the background. Oh, so Damon is having a shower. Strange, I think, given that he always leaves it to the evening but whatever. It's completely normal to have a morning shower once in a while. I shouldn't be so paranoid.

Overwhelmed with relief, I start to prepare breakfast. I can't remember the last time I did because Damon is always up and cooking by the time I come down. It's a silent agreement between us: he is responsible for breakfast and I'm responsible for dinner. I'm not sure I can prepare a simple pancake anymore to save my life. I try my best but I'm no Martha Stewart. Caroline has always told me I should marry a rich man who can afford to take me to a fancy restaurant every night so he won't notice my lack of skills in the kitchen department. Ha. Caroline has always been a cruel one. Funny, but cruel nonetheless.

I'm halfway through the process, stirring the dough in the bowl furiously when I hear the water stop running. A couple of minutes later a deep voice starts to hum softly. I hear a door open and close somewhere behind me. His footsteps become louder, his humming stronger and I see from the corner of my eyes when he walks past me in the direction of the living room.

"Hey, Damon, do you mind if I put strawbe-" I get about this far because I look up and drop the bowl out of surprise. Because what. The. Actual. Fuck.

It's definitely not Damon standing in front of me. No, it's Kai Parker who's just walked out of _my_ shower and walks around _my_ house (not really mine, but you get the point) like he owns the place, his body dripping wet and lemon-scented (that's an important detail, right?), only a towel around his waist like it was perfectly normal to go and shower in other people's bathrooms unannounced and uninvited. He seems unfazed by my reaction because all he does is gesturing toward the bowl I've just dropped and states in a disappointed tone,

"Great, Bonster, you've just ruined breakfast. Thank you very much."

Suddenly I lose my ability to form coherent thoughts and sentences. I open my mouth to say something - preferably something mean and wicked - but close it right away because nothing comes out of it. That son of a bitch must be very entertained by my lack of response because he can't wipe the amused grin off his face while I'm trying to gather my wits. When I finally do, it's very unladylike, but I have bigger problems right now.

"Holy shit Kai, just what the hell do you think you do here?"

He doesn't say anything, just crosses his arms in front of his chest. His lack of reaction only fuels my anger and I snap at him.

"Well? I don't have all day."

He shrugs and instead of answering my question, he helps himself to a handful of strawberries. See, Kai always has to eat something. It's his thing. In movies there are villains petting cats while watching people die with an angelic smile. There are villains riding bicycles in clown masks while making you piss yourself out of terror. And then there is Kai, big bad Malachi Parker who… eats. Anytime, anywhere, in any situation. He is so annoying with his pork rinds and pop-tarts and freaking strawberries, especially when he takes his time and chews audibly and slowly on them while I'm still waiting for his answer. Everything he does seems to irritate me. Then he speaks in the usual singsong tone of his like he doesn't have a care in the world. (He probably doesn't.)

"I just got out of the shower."

"You don't say!? I almost missed…this." Thankfully I still have enough composure to sound sarcastic. Waving an arm awkwardly in his direction is supposed to indicate that his naked body is hardly unnoticeable but it seems to amuse him way too much, so I change the topic fast. "And why would you shower here?"

He talks to me like he would talk to a particularly difficult child, I assume.

"Uh, just, you know... Variety is the spice of life, if you catch my drift, Bon."

Umm... I kind of...don't? What is he even talking about? Showering in various bathrooms is the spice of his life? Err, weird? Maybe the lack of action resulted in him developing weird fetishes, like jerking off in various bathrooms around Portland? " _Oh no, you didn't just go there!"_ shrieks a voice in my head, a voice that is a dead ringer for Caroline's when she is furious. Uh-oh.

"Whatever, psycho, I don't care. You can appreciate variety in any shape or form outside this house. But first get out of my kitchen, right now!"

Instead of making him angry, my angry reaction makes him visibly satisfied, almost as if for whatever reason he was looking for this exact reaction. Like he knows something I don't. I can hear the mockery in his voice as he steps one step further in my direction.

"And why would I do that? Am I really making you so uncomfortable? Why is that, Bonnie? Could it be that my naked body gets you all hot and bothered? Wow, who would've thought, right?"

And he has the nerve to try to flirt with me. I have to make him stop. Shouting and threatening won't cover it, not this time. I try to reason with him.

"You should go not only because seeing you like this makes me nauseous but also because you probably don't want to violate our pact by setting me off. You know well that my magic is your golden ticket for the way back home so I wouldn't advise trying to infuriate me. Oh, and I don't care if literally the whole world have been your private nudist beach in the last 18 years, you still can't walk around practically naked around company."

I only get a boyish and slightly mental smile of his in response.

"Yet I do the exact thing and no-one has died because of it so far, so what's the harm, right?"

"Unlike you, Damon and I are civilized people. That's not how we live in this house."

"Wow, you must really be into this bod if you can create this big drama over an innocent six-pack." To bring attention to said six-pack, he flexes the muscles in his stomach. I can't help but snort loudly.

"This is not a six-pack. More like a two-pack. A baby two-pack."

"Admit it you like it."

By now surprise has worn off and I'm getting more and more irritated with him. I try to find something, anything to set him off because I'm a mature person and sometimes I just want to insult others without a good reason, deal with it. I decide quickly that I will use his childish and petty competition with Damon against him. Kind of perfect, really.

"I'm not sharing my thoughts on your body. What I like and don't like shouldn't matter to you." I use my best 'it's-none-of-your-business'-tone. That's the easiest way to make him curious, just like when you try to make a 5-year-old interested. I wait and think 'please bait'. And he baits.

"Ah, but Bonster, the thing is, I really want to know what you like and don't like." He slightly flexes his muscles, again, and I almost fall out of character because he just look so hot. Almost. I pray that I look much less affected than I actually feel. "Do you see anything here you like?"

"If you insist, I must tell you that I don't. Not really, sorry. It's not like you don't have an okay body but you're not exactly my type."

His grin becomes wider and he takes a step further in my direction. He knows I'm bluffing and it's not really hard to see since I clearly overplayed it. I mean... You have an okay body?! It's like saying "You have an okay car" to someone in a Ferrari. Understatement of the year.

"And what exactly your type is? Someone more hunky? Because I can get myself in better shape in no time, if that's what floats your boat."

"Not exactly. I meant to say I would prefer someone with bigger-"

"Than this just might be your lucky day, if you know what I mean." He has the audacity to wink. I swear I'm having a heart attack. "Come on, we don't have to beat around the bush, we can get down to business straight away so you can see for yourself whether you like what I have to offer or not. You just seem like the type of girl who wouldn't mind getting her hands a little bit…dirty."

"That is SO not what I wanted to say. Also, you assume. A lot. And you clearly love to exaggerate about certain parts of your anatomy." He raises an eyebrow again, suggesting things I try not even thinking about. "I tried to say I would prefer someone with bigger life experience. I hate to break it to you, but I don't do boys. I only do men."

His expression suddenly turns deadly serious and the annoying smirk disappears from his face. _Oooh, yeah, I got you there, Kai._ When he eventually talks, his voice is ice cold, although he tries to act like he doesn't care. Can't fool me though.

"You seem to forget that I'm in fact a man, not a boy. Despite looking incredibly fresh and hot... I'm almost 40, you know."

Oh right. That is a little (very) creepy but fortunately my brain can't really process it properly under these circumstances.

"I'm aware, but it doesn't really make a difference either way. I don't care about 40-year-olds more than about 22-year-olds. Even 40 isn't that big of a number comparing to someone with centuries of life experience. Now that's what I call a mature man."

I gag a little in my mind as soon as I get to the mature man-part because that is the exact opposite of what 'floats my boat'. I have always wondered whether Elena gets uncomfortable sometimes, knowing there is a chance she has sex with her own grand-grand-grand-grandfather and all (but it's probably not the right time and place to think about Elena's sex life, is it?). No matter what the truth is about my own preferences, it seems like I've chosen just the right words because they visibly rub him in a wrong way. A very, very wrong way. Oh, so I found his soft spot.

"So you would prefer to fuck Vampire Grandpa because he tells you some lies about his oh-so-interesting and eventful life? That's cute, really." His backlash at Damon is comical since I've never been interested in him romantically or sexually. Either way, it's just too much fun to see Kai getting worked up. I almost burst out laughing. "Let me help you with that, Bonster. Just think about it this way: even if he only killed one person per year ever since he turned, he still at like, what? 200? And we both know he killed so much more than that. He has 'mass murderer' written all over him. So…you do the math."

I know he has a point, an extremely valid point which I've been avoiding for a long time, but I don't want to go there right now. I just want to set him off. So instead of trying to defend Damon, I just scoff incredulously and act like him killing hundreds or thousands of people was no big deal for me.

"Really, Kai. You are one to talk."

"I killed much less. Comparing to his number, mine is practically non-existent. Same goes for our ages which is just a hot young bonus on your 'pro Kai'-list, right?"

But I'm not willing to let it go, not so easily.

"At least he didn't kill children."

He's laughing with his head tilted back, eyes closed and posture rigid. It's a cold, mirthless laugh and I shudder because I know whatever he's going to say about Damon next will probably be right.

"Oh, right, I forgot for a minute he only goes for the preggers. My sweet, naive little Bonbon. I wouldn't bet my life on him not killing children. In fact I wouldn't bet on it at all because I know I would lose that bet in a heartbeat." He's moving in circles around me while he speaks and I'm thankful for not having to look at him because what he says hits a little bit too close to home. "I found one thing so strange when I listened to you two talk, you know? Bonnie Bennett, protector of the innocent and the weak, queen of morals and ethics being friends with someone who's got to be one of the biggest serial killers in modern history. What does that say about you? Ever heard what they say about the bird and the feather?" He tries to act like he is just wondering out loud, like he doesn't care about what I have to say in my defense, but when he finally stops in front of me, I see a new kind of hardness in his eyes, like he I've actually hurt him somehow. "I don't know the rest of your friends personally but the picture you've painted of them shows they are no saints either. You overlook their mistakes so easily yet you would be more than willing to leave me behind to rot in this hell of a time loop for eternity if it wasn't for the spell. You would be congratulating yourself on the accomplishment, feeling like you did a huge favor to the world, while back in reality Damon would continue to have relapses and turn off his humanity whenever he has some teenage drama with Erika or what her name is and he would feast on the innocents. But it would be all okay when he comes back ashamed and guilty because he would _regret_ it so you would forgive him. I just don't get it...why? Why aren't you giving me a chance when you can give him? Is it because I don't act like I regret what I've done? I'm having difficulties understanding this. I killed four. He killed hundreds. Isn't it what should matter to you in the end?"

His reasoning is flawless and completely fucked up at the same time. I don't like this new light he threw upon me one bit. Meanwhile Kai looks at me like he's waiting for an explanation which makes me upset because suddenly I'm on the defensive and I don't even know how he has done it.

"So I should fuck you instead of him because you killed less?" I ask incredulously. I decide not to answer his questions and accusations about my relationship with Damon and my willingness to overlook my friends' mistakes because I'm not sure I can say anything smart in my own defense. I'm not willing to go down that road. Not yet. "Wow, Malachai. That's some logic you've got there. Talking about someone trying to prove his point so hard that he can't even see the forest from the trees anymore. You won't charm off any underwear with talk like that, especially not mine. Seriously, you need to work on your reasoning. Now excuse me."

I try to walk away but he seems to realize his mistake because when I'm moving past him, he suddenly grabs one of my arms and pulls me dangerously close to his body. The shit-eating grin is already plastered back onto his face.

"You should fuck me because I'm way hotter than him. Plus because I just happen to know you're dying to do it ever since you first laid your eyes on this ridiculously hot piece of meat." He points at his body like he was a butcher showing off the goods, like his body was a piece of meat and we were just bargaining over the price. "You can have it if you like. Any way you like. Control gets you off, doesn't it?" He smiles but it never reaches his cold, calculating eyes. He smiles like a shark who smells blood. '"You could tie me up. Or you could order me around. Trust me, I would do precisely what you want me to do, any way you want me to do it.'"

Somehow I find this prospect incredibly hot. Maybe because it would be heaven to dominate and degrade someone sooooo... _annoying_ and just make him shut up for once. I'm completely speechless - hell, I can hardly breathe as I think through my options. He mistakes my stunned silence for disapproval and changes his game.

"Or I could give it to you hard and fast and dirty if that's what you're into. I can make you feel exactly how desperately I want to fuck you and I can show you how I won't take no for an answer." I gulp audibly. I don't dare to move. And he is not quite finished. "We can go on for hours and hours. Days, if you will have me. Just say the word." He tries to play it cool but it's easy to see that he can't really do that, not anymore. I can't blame him since I'm almost too overwhelmed by the frustration he's caused in my body and I had sex like, what, 6 months ago? He had to go on without it for 18 years.

 _"_ _Just imagine that, Bonnie"_ says a voice in my head, which is definitely not Caroline's this time. More like that lady's from the hot line I accidentally dialed once in 5th grade due to a prank my classmates pulled on me. Anyway. " _Can you believe how bad he probably wants it? How hard it must be for him to stand there and wait for your answer?"_ My knees go weak as I think about this. He is right, I thrive on control. And that tiny voice speaks again. " _Oh, come on, Bonnie, take pity on him. I bet he can't even remember how it feels. Tell yourself it's charity or whatever you want to fool yourself into. Be a good samaritan and fuck his brains out. Just. Do. It. NOW."_

I can't take this anymore. I have to clear my head because I've clearly gone mad. The worst part is that I don't really have the option to say yes, not in this lifetime, because we're talking about Kai Parker, for heaven's sake! Unfortunately knowing it's a line I could never cross just doubles my agony, making me want to do it more. He is watching my face closely, looking for any signs of weakness and I bet he can read every single thought passing through my mind because suddenly he shifts his ground. Have I mentioned that he's a pro at manipulating others?

"If you are worried about your vampire boytoy, don't. I will never tell him. Even if I did, there is no way in hell he would actually believe me. Nor would anyone else. It could be our dirty little secret." Every ounce of playfulness is long gone from his face or his voice. It almost feels like he is begging to me. He probably is. I hate myself for wanting this. If I had a single drop of blood in my head, I would be sickened by my behavior but I'm not because the urge to let him do all of the things he promised he would is much stronger than any rationality I've ever possessed. I can't resist having just a little taste of it. I just need to know what wound happen. How it would happen. I just need him to tell me. Just a little peak and that's all.

"Let's suppose I say yes." The raw, uncivilized hunger on his face is too much to take. I have to look away for a moment. "What would happen, strictly theoretically, if I did?"

"If you said yes, I would go upstairs and give Granddad a not-quite-healthy dose of sedatives that would take him out for a while. Just a little sting and that's all, he would sleep like a baby for long hours. He wouldn't even notice because he's already been sleeping. Then I would come down and eat you out thoroughly first because I'm sure I wouldn't even last for 5 minutes the first time. It's been a while, you know, and I would hate to disappoint." He doesn't seem ashamed, not in the slightest, he just states things matter of factly. Any other guy would be embarrassed talking about how he won't last more than 5 minutes but he owns up to it like it was no big deal. It makes him incredibly hot. "As soon as you came, I would be inside of you, no foreplay, no bullshit like that, and I would fuck you in the first position I could think of, on the first piece of furniture I would find. But after that" he lowers his voice, "everything would happen on your terms. Every single thing. As long as you want. Just say yes." His voice is practically silken now, his eyes almost dark, full of promise and I know in that exact moment that I'm lost.

Suddenly I think about a tale in the Bible my Grams told me when I was little. I think about how that poor woman couldn't deny herself the pleasure of getting a peak of the burning Sodom that ultimately resulted in her turning into a pillar of salt. I feel her so hard right now. I just wanted a peak and BAM, suddenly I know without a doubt there is no turning back. _Serves you right, Bonnie. That's what you get for letting Kai Parker…umm…talk to you?_ _Wow, he's good._

"And what would I say to Damon? How would I explain to him that he slept into late afternoon and I didn't even notice? He would know something is up. Bet you haven't calculated that factor into your messed up little plan."

"I did, and it's kind of perfect if you think about it. I would just sedate him for a day and that's it. I have more than enough meds to do that, trust me. Folks in the 90's were seriously into Xanax. Just look around these bathrooms. Anyway. He would wake up tomorrow morning, thinking it's today because literally every day is today in here. He would never know he missed a day because there is no-one around to inform him about this...let's just say, unfortunate accident." For a moment I don't know whether I should be terrified and run for the hills because he is the biggest mental case I've ever seen or be amazed by how scarily resourceful he is. But most of all I feel disgusted by even listening to what he's offering, what he wants to do to Damon... I'm going to be sick. It's like I'm watching a train wreck in slow motion, wanting to scream and run but not doing anything, just watching in paralyzed silence. "What do you say, Bonnie?"

"I say you're fucked up beyond words. Damon's my friend."

"Duh…So?"

"And you've killed your siblings. Your minor siblings." I can't possibly want this.

"Yepp. But you still haven't answered the question."

"You don't even know how repulsed I am by you. Or myself for even considering it."

"Booooooring. Save the bullshit. A simple yes or no will do. I don't care about the rest. You can consult your psychologist about your moral crisis when we get back."

"About getting back… If you are so sure that we will, in fact, get back eventually, why not wait till then with trying to seduce me? Why now? Why here? Why risk everything?"

"Because there is something about you that needs to be…corrupted. It must be so tiring to sit on that high horse all day and judge everyone under the sun except for those who deserve it the most because, yay, friendship. How convenient for you."

"You don't know a thing about me."

"And you don't know a thing about me but you are more than okay with trying to kill me as soon as we get back because I've done something…questionable two decades ago. Why are you so sure that my siblings didn't deserve to get killed? That the rest of my family doesn't deserve the same fate? You don't, because you don't care to find out the actual story. You just judge. So I want you to do something really reprehensible by your own standards and then I want to see you have a moral breach about it. And I know I won't have a chance when we get back."

"Fuck you, Kai Parker, you disgusting piece of shit."

I'm beyond livid. He's beyond livid. He drops the towel and I know this is the moment when I have to stop him if I want to stop at all.

"Yes or no, Bonnie? I'm done waiting.'"

This is the moment when I should say no. This is the moment when I nullify every good and noble I've ever done in my life if I don't say no. This is the moment when the things I do next cannot be undone if I don't say the right thing. But this isn't the moment when I say no because I can't.

"DAMON!"

I cringe mentally when my way too sharp, way too loud voice breaks the silence but I don't care because I've finally come to my senses. Damon will wake up and be down in seconds, ready to beat the shit out of him. Everything will be back to normal and with time, I will come to grips with the fact that I hesitated so long before doing the right thing.

Except nothing happens. Kai looks at me with an unreadable expression, something between disappointment and lust, but he doesn't move. We wait for a couple of seconds completely still, staring at each other. I can hear the clock ticking on the wall. Nothing happens. This is when it starts to dawn upon me. Damon should've already waken up, long before this. I can't believe this bastard tricked me into not noticing.

"What have you done to him?" For the first time since he's showed up, I'm legitimately afraid of him. Good. I should have been in the first place. I start to back away from him, step by step, but he follows, not missing a beat. I'm stopped abruptly by the couch in the living room which means I'm cornered. Before I could have a chance to make up an escape plan, he grabs my shirt and starts to unbutton it. I'm too stunned to protest.

"Remember those sedatives I told you about? I may or may not have already hooked him up to an IV full of downers by the time you woke up. Let's just say your vampire bodyguard is not in the condition to save you right now. In fact, he won't be at all for approximately 24 hours." He looks at me for a moment and lets out a malevolent laugh before he turns back to unbuttoning my shirt. "Oh, you should see the look on your face, Bonnie, it's so refreshing when you are afraid of me instead of being disgusted."

"So you knew I would say no? Then why the show?"

"You didn't say no."

"I didn't say yes either."

He rips the shirt from my body and moves onto my shorts. Feeling his hand inches from the most sensitive parts of my body snaps me out of my shocked haze and I slap his hand away. As I look down, I can't help but notice that he's completely naked and hard. This is so wrong. How could I let things escalate this far?

"You said nothing because you wanted to say yes but your tiresome values interfered. So let me help you with that."

He reaches for the button on my shorts again and this time I don't do anything to stop him. As soon as he unbuttons it, his hand slips into my pants and he lets out a surprised gasp.

"Oh, Bonnie, look at you. You know well what I've done, _what_ I am and I could still get you wet and panting. How could you be so perfect?"

I don't answer his rhetorical question because the thought of someone like Kai finding me perfect makes me want to light something on fire and because there are more important matters at hand.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to give you something you can judge yourself for the rest of your life."

Blind terror comes over me because I finally understand I don't have control over the situation anymore. At all. He will go through whatever plans he has for today and I don't have a say in it. His fingers reach my clit and circle around it deliberately slowly. I don't know whether I'm going to throw up or pass out of pleasure.

"This is rape, Kai." It is barely a whisper. I can't even say it out loud.

"Lucky for you, you're wet enough to get through this…sexual abuse of yours just fine."

"This is not a joke. Stop it." My voice is starting to get hysterical. I'm past the point of worrying about showing weakness.

"You were going to do this, I know you were."

"And I still can't believe I almost did."

He's growing irritated with me and it's showing on his face because he frowns and kits his brow.

"You know what? I can't believe I wanted to do it right and ask for your permission."

This is not the guy who playfully begged me to say yes just minutes ago. He's someone dark and dangerous and broken. I don't try to reason with him anymore because I know it would be to no avail. There is nothing left to say except for one thing.

"Don't. _Please._ Just stop."

He does as I say for a moment. When he finally looks at me I can see fury on his face (he's clearly annoyed by my protests) but I see something else too. It's only there for a passing moment but I see it all. Guilt. Hesitation. Regret. Before I can register those feelings, they are already gone.

"Bad news, Bonnie. I'm a big bad sociopath. And I couldn't care less."

He pushes me down onto the couch and pulls my shorts and underwear down, leaving me only in a pair of boots and a bra. I've never felt so exposed and just plain messed up in my entire life. All of my confused feelings curl into a huge bundle of nerves in my stomach, fluttering hard. _(Just don't throw up, Bonnie, please, not now.)_ He lies on top of me after pushing my legs apart.

"The fact alone that you are not trying to use your magic which could stop this whole thing is enough for me not to care about what you are saying because you are a hypocrite." The weight of his body on me and the hardness touching my thighs almost makes me explode and he hasn't even entered me yet. "You can scream, kick, you can cry rape, but you can't fool me. I see right through you. But don't worry. It will be our secret." He enters me roughly without a warning and I can't hold back a scream because I feel so violated and because he feels so good. "I promise you to take this to the grave."

I hate him for being right for once in his pathetic life because despite all of the screaming, crying and clawing at his back, cursing him to hell and back, I come violently before he has the chance to finish.

* * *

 **December 2017**

On the rare occasions I let myself think about that night, I feel nothing but ashes in my mouth. If I could go back in time, would I stop him? Would I protest harder? I'm not sure. After everything he's done to me and to my friends, I'm still not sure. It makes me sick with self-hatred.

So many people died around me in the last few years. Good people whose memories I cherish. There are so many I could grief and feel sorry for and who would be more deserving of remembering, yet here I am, thinking about how a twisted sociopath fucked me on a couch out of boredom or spite or whatever his motives were years ago.

At least he kept his promise and took it to the grave.

Finally I burst into tears. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's getting so fed up with feeling empty and left alone all the time. Maybe it's exhaustion. But most likely, it's defeat. I cry with stuttering breaths and I don't stop until I pass out on the carpet, drunk and miserable and all alone.

The last thing I think about before darkness takes over me is that it's a good thing he's already dead because if he wasn't, I would kill him with my own hands.

Damn you, Kai Parker. Damn you to the hell you are already in.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey, thanks for everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed, it means a lot to me :) I know this chapter turned out to be pretty dark eventually and I'm sorry if I offended any of you, I wrote something funnier and more light-hearted originally but somehow these two started to interact on their own and I'm so fascinated by the results that I'm not changing it. I just want any of you to know who is disappointed that Kai won't be like this all the time, you will hardly see this version of him but I can't explain because I'm trying not to give away anything else (it's a major plot twist). I also know that Bonnie has to be a bit OoC because canonBonnie would have killed Kai the moment he showed up in nothing but a towel haha but as this happens before Kai shoots her with an arrow and tries to make her life hell I find it kind of plausible that she can't get rid of her crush on him instantly after she learns about his past. (Which she clearly had before! No, don't try to convince me otherwise! I can't hear you! lalalala) Oh and one more thing: I was over TVD the moment they killed Kai so I have no idea what happens on season 7. When it comes to this story, please just ignore everything that happened on the show after they destroyed the joy and pure perfection that Chris Wood had been as Kai. (Reviews - positive or negative - are most welcome.)_


	3. Heart-Shaped Box

_A/N: Hey guys, guess who's back? Back again? No, it's not Slim Shady. (I've been told numerous times I suck at icebreakers. Sorry!) I'm also very sorry about the delay but I've had_ _tons_ _of work to do and all, life is hard, etc etc, no-one cares, I know. I've got to admit I've been a bit demotivated too because writing in a foreign language can be very tiring so I just abandoned Rinse, repeat for a while because it's the easy way out and I'm a horribly lazy person. I've worked on my book instead and while I did a great progress with that, I kind of forgot about this story. Then last week someone left a review here, asking me whether I will continue this or not and I thought what the hell, Tanya, if there is at least one person out there who is genuinely excited to read your stuff and waits impatiently for an update then you shouldn't sit on your selfish ass and whine because translating is hard. So thanks for the review, anonymous reader - whoever you might be - , seriously, you made my otherwise miserable week. Without you this chapter wouldn't be up right now so it's dedicated to you, hope it doesn't disappoint! :)_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1 AND ESPECIALLY CHAPTER 2 HAVE BEEN PARTLY REWRITTEN AND HEAVILY EDITED, NOTHING MAJOR IN PLOT BUT I SUGGEST YOU TO CHECK THEM OUT BEFORE READING THIS ONE!** I've decided to do some editing and rephrasing with the first two chapters before adding anything new. No major changes in plot, more like trying to get rid of the useless parts, the structural catastrophe and the glaring grammatical errors that I've only noticed after hitting publish. I've also realized I should probably change Bonnie's characterization a bit after how the ending of Ch2 turned out to be because it seemed off. There are also subtle changes in Ch2 that are important to read in order to understand a few things in this one, too. Seriously though, check them out, they've improved a lot!

* * *

 **December 2017**

"Bonnie, dear, could you add this bottle to the other purchases, please?"

"Of course, Mrs. Henderson. May I recommend the new conditioner as well? All of my customers having tried it are very satisfied with the results."

Yes, it has come to this. My life is pathetic. I, Bonnie Sheila Bennett, granddaughter of the late Sheila Bennett, last remaining member of the Bennett line, am selling cosmetic and beauty products to vain cheerleaders and kind old ladies with less genetic luck and more money than deserved. It's official. I've failed at life. I have no more lingering illusions of grandeur, I'm nothing but a woeful offspring of a once-powerful bunch of witches who are probably rolling over in their graves as I paint in rosy colors the advantages of becoming a regular customer to the already raptured Mrs. Henderson.

After convincing her that she absolutely has to try the new conditioner, I pack and ring up the products she's chosen while I try to make some obligatory small talk. As they say, small town, small... talk.

"How is Kimberly? Has she already graduated? I haven't seen her around for a while."

"Yes, dear, that's because she's in college now. She started at WVU this fall. It's a pity she barely manages to come home to visit her old grandmother. Poor thing has to study all the time." Yeah, I can imagine how much poor Kimberly studies at WVU. Probably zero, save for the anatomy of the football team. "But I'm so proud of her. She's always been such a smart girl, right dear?"

If we are talking about the same Kimberly Henderson who infamously ate only carrots for 3 months straight because she thought it would help growing C-cup breasts and she didn't stop until she got herself into hospital... then no comment. Mystic Falls is a small town, rumors get around easily. I know that from experience all too well.

Instead of laughing out loud at the absurd idea of Kimberly Henderson being a smart girl, I smile sweetly, hand the package over to Mrs. Henderson and compliment dearest Kimberly's undoubted genius. I even ask the kind old lady to say hello to Kim for me, despite the fact that she probably doesn't even remember I exist.

"Oh I will, I will, of course. I'm also sending her a bottle of your shampoo. It has done wonders to my hair!"

I'm starting to get a bit impatient because I have a massive hangover, thanks to my one-person debauchery last night when I impulsively decided to drown my sorrows in alcohol, again. All in all, I could do without the chit-chat, but Mrs. Henderson has other plans.

By the time she finishes gushing about Kimberly (and Josh and Chad and Maybelle and even Mrs. Paws, her cat), pays and leaves, my head is about to explode. Vodka may be your best friend when you're in need but it can be a mean bitch the morning after.

Two aspirins and a coffee later my hangover is tolerable enough to walk around the once again empty shop and rearrange a couple of shelves. I even step outside for a moment to admire the store window, renewed by the winter decoration. I have to admit this little shop has really grown on me.

You probably think I'm pathetic, but trust me, my life isn't as lame as it first seems. Okay, it probably is, but at least I own this shop. A shop in which I sell cosmetic products, but still. I'm my own boss. I only work when I want to. I never get up before 9am these days. Which is not much of an accomplishment, but I guess it's still... nice?

It's not like I'm in desperate need of money. My father has left me enough to manage, so I don't do this because I _need_ to. I just got so bored wandering around that huge and empty boarding house all day at some point of my life that I had to do something with myself. I also needed a good camouflage that makes it possible to launder my hard-earned, illegal cash before someone from the IRS becomes suspicious about my ever-growing fortune. Establishing my own cosmetic line wasn't the only thing I have been up to the last couple of years: I've also started to provide certain services to certain circles in the supernatural scenery and I'm not doing it for free. Who knew being a witch could bring me money one day?

I have a small and trusted circle of costumers who I regularly work for, so it's not like I'm free to hire to anyone. I don't trust newcomers, only if they are recommended by someone I know. Suspicion is a must if you don't want to find yourself in really messed up situations, like realizing a little too late that the younger members of some random coven from Maryland have just hired you to kill their leader so they could take over control. (Yes, true story. No, I still don't want to talk about it. Let's just say it was a little exhausting to find a willing vampire to compel the whole coven one by one to make them forget about their murderous plans, then pay the vampire TONS of money, only to hear next month that said vampire died, thus the members got un-compelled and killed the leader anyway.) These days I double-check my customers and I only participate in their schemes if no one gets hurt. Or if they get hurt for a good reason.

So when I started to make a name for myself in the supernatural business, I came up with the idea of a small, insignificant shop. I didn't think big, I just wanted a place where I could store my herbs and launder the income from my illegal activities. I quickly realized my best bet was a shop for my all-natural, handmade cosmetic products which would explain my excessive gardening activities and the amount of herbs I grow. With that thought in mind I bought a tiny store downtown, created a few bottles of shampoo, body lotion and night creme and intended to call it a day. At first the shop was only open once or twice a week, just for the show, not for real profit. I never imagined people would buy more than a couple of my products here and there and I sure as hell never dreamed of having the whole female population of Mystic Falls as my regular. The key to my success must have been that I decided to improve my stuff with a little bit of witchy-woo so it really could do wonders to any hair or skin compared to traditional products. Still, I like to think they would stand their ground even without the spellwork. (They probably wouldn't.)

A couple of months after I'd opened the shop I realized I was making more money out of it then doing locator spells and killing the current bad guys. I started to take it more seriously. Now it's open every day for a few hours, I spend a little on marketing, decoration and most of all, I try to look and act like a proper businesswoman. At least during the day. At night... it depends. At night I'm either involved in some supernatural drama, or I stay at the boarding house, all alone, trying not to give into the urge to drink myself into oblivion just to forget about my loneliness for a couple of hours.

That's it... still in Mystic Falls, still a witch, but the rest has changed drastically. Mostly because almost everyone I've ever had some kind of meaningful relationship with is long gone (or sleeps in my basement), and I'm the only one who is still stuck here like a forgotten, fading memory. Like a lost shadow of someone who has seen better days.

It's so strange to think about my life and my friends (or the lack of them) this way. It's not like they left me behind on purpose. They didn't even leave together, they left one by one, over different causes and motivations, went in different directions of life and I didn't even realize what was happening until we've already fallen apart. But I'm not complaining. I have a successful business, I'm still alive and I'm in not in some kind of prison world, nor do I function as an anchor to the other side. I've had it much, much worse.

After I've rearranged and cleaned everything I could, I sit behind the counter and look around my small empire with delight. It's not that bad, really not. If the circumstances were a little different, I could be happy with what I have. It's just...if there weren't any nights to spend alone, dwelling on the past, comparing myself to _old Bonnie_ , feeling like this version of me doesn't worth 2 cents, I probably wouldn't feel the need to knock myself out with alcohol every single time loneliness and uselessness starts to become overwhelming. If I had someone to share my life with, I probably wouldn't obsess over memories of someone I spent only one night with. (Okay, that is a lie. I would still obsess over _him_ occasionally, no matter what.)

Maybe I shouldn't see too much into it. With Christmas around the corner, I've probably become more vulnerable and I can't control my emotions as easily as I usually do.

So I finally give up on my fruitless efforts to distract myself from the old sore I've ripped up last night and let myself getting lost in the memories of the day I spent with him not the first, but the second time this week. Yeah, it's definitely because of Christmas.

* * *

 **May 1994**

It's been hours now. Hours since I decided to spit in the face of everything I ever knew myself to be, hours since I gave into some temporary madness and every single minute has been a bliss so far.

There is no moping over Elena, there is no wondering about what happens in reality, no plotting and brainstorming and incessant soul-searching, just sex, ice-cream and Nirvana. Yes, you heard that right. It turns out Kai Parker, of all people, is a huge fan of Nirvana. (And I thought that the weirdest part of my day was going to be me getting it on with a 40-year-old supernatural criminal...)

Said supernatural criminal is sprawled across the couch almost completely naked and completely relaxed while he does his best to stuff the biggest amount of chocolate ice-cream in his mouth he can manage. If I didn't know better, I would say the way he acts almost passes for shy. This uncharacteristically peaceful behavior doesn't last long because a moment later he looks like he's having some kind of seizure with his hands flailing around wildly and mouth agape.

"Ow...fuck...it's cold" he whines, evidently no longer content with his dessert.

He's letting me observe him with all his guards off, in this state of undignified, ice-cream stuffing ridiculousness which makes me completely puzzled because I can't see the hidden motivation. Is it a plot to distract my attention? A show for his own exhibicionist amusement? What is he playing at? I can't tell yet so I just go with the flow. I sit back and observe him quietly.

At this exact moment, as he scraps the bottom of the box with his spoon, searching for the last of the ice-cream while humming the song currently playing in the background, he doesn't look like a dangerous sociopath, he looks like a careless 22-year-old. Despite my own burning hatred against him, my heart aches funnily at the sight. So that's what he would be like if he was... normal. Wow.

When the CD player switches to a new song, I instantly recognize the first accords of one of my all-time-favorite hits from the 90s. Kai must share my enthusiasm about it because he starts to sing along loudly. To my utter astonishment, he has a pleasant, if not angelic voice. It doesn't fit his personality at all.

 _She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak_

 _I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks_

 _I've been drawn into your magnet tear-pit trap_

 _I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black_

I don't want to get to know him. I don't want _him_ to get to know me. I don't want to bond emotionally at all and I sure as hell don't want to share anything with him except my body but I find myself unable to remain silent because somehow I still want to express my undying love for this song. Great music can have this effect on you.

"You know, this has always been my favorite from In Utero. When I heard it for the first time I couldn't figure out the meaning of the lyrics but still loved the tune. Later when I got old enough to comprehend how badly Kurt was addicted to drugs I just automatically guessed it was about heroine."

He snorts into his ice-cream.

"Yeah, no, I'm pretty sure it's all about Courtney's...how to put it nicely...lady business."

"Ew. Gross."

"I know, right? I don't mind a chick with an edge but she's just over the top."

"I didn't mean that. I meant 'gross' as 'please don't refer to a vagina as lady business ever again, it sounds so gross'. It's easily the grossest thing you've ever said and you talk about revolting stuff all the time."

He stops the process what I'd describe 'devouring ice-cream with almost religious awe' and looks at me with renewed curiosity.

'"Really, Bonster? So what should I call yours? Nasty bits? Honey pot?" He must see the absolute horror on my face but doesn't stop. He's clearly enjoying this. "No? Not your jam? Then what about meat curtains? Or pink taco? I've got to admit these make me a bit uncomfortable but if that's what works for you..."

He only stops when I hit him with a cushion. Hard. Repeatedly.

"Please, for the love of God, just shut up. Ugh, I've never wanted to bleach my brain so bad. I'm going to have nightmares. Or PTSD."

Just when I think the situation couldn't get any worse, he chooses to ignore my protests and kneels in front of me so he could talk to my vagina directly.

"Hello, Bonne's beautiful flower. Are you up to round six? Or probably seven, I lost count after three."

"I feel like we weren't on the same page when I said I like it when a man talks dirty in bed because you're doing it absolutely wrong. Congrats, my so-called flower just sealed itself up to you, like, forever."

All he has to do is raise an eyebrow and send a lazy smirk in my way to know I've already lost.

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a vow."

* * *

Obviously we are fucking again about 10 minutes later. (For the record: It's not because I don't have enough willpower to resist, _totally not_ , I just couldn't find a better way to make him stop with the vag-talk.) I try not to analyze my confused feelings as I examine the cracks in the ceiling while he moves on top of me, but I fail miserably. I can't ignore the million dollar question anymore which I've tried to avoid like the plague all day.

 _Why would you do this, Bonnie?_

Yeah, so why do I do this? Because even if I didn't exactly have a choice for the first time, I sure as hell did for the second, or the third, or... You get the point. I could have easily used my magic to unhook Damon's IV or just grab a massive object and knock Kai out. I had the perfect opportunity after round one while he was lying on the couch, completely spent and half-asleep, all I had to do was lift up a plate from the coffee table and get through with it. But I didn't. What did I do instead? I climbed on top of him and had a second helping. And a third. And... _Oh just shut up already._

So why do I do this?

Am I this desperate? No, I wouldn't say. I've never been the kind of girl who threw herself at guys. Am I just lonely? I must be. But that's not an excuse to sleep with someone so rotten like Kai Parker. Maybe my self esteem is just extremely low and I give myself to any guy who's willing. Well, my ex cheating on me with a ghost certainly didn't help to develop a healthy sexual confidence, but I can't blame something Jeremy did ages ago for every questionable thing I do concerning my love life. No, it's all on me. Besides usually I'm not easy, on the contrary. So it must be something about Kai himself which makes me act so irrational.

No matter how hard I try to find a logical explanation for my actions, I'm left empty-handed.

After the first time, after he gave me easily the biggest orgasm of my life, I decided to turn my morality off and just seize the day for once in my life. The damage has already been done so what's the harm in a couple of hours more, right?

Except I can't un-read mentally that goddamn awful article, I can't get rid of those faces in the newspaper, no matter how hard I try. No matter how hard and fast he pushes inside me.

 _He drowned one of his brothers in the pool. The youngest victim was 12._

As Kai fastens the pace, I try to trick my body into not enjoying what he's doing to me, I try to think of his sins, his family, my family, but nothing seems to help. I feel sick to my guts but I know with certainty that he's still going to make me come.

 _He was 12, he had blue eyes and a beautiful smile._

When he starts to groan uncontrollably, I can hardly resist the urge to scream my lungs out and push him off, but I defeat it somehow. Because I'm selfish and weak and I want to come. Because when it comes to him, I can't help myself. Even if it makes me sick. Even if I want to carve his heart out of his chest. Even if I know I will despise myself for it until the day I die.

 _His name was Logan._

When the waves of my orgasm take over me, I taste nothing but bile in my mouth.

* * *

It's almost midnight. At this point both of us are too exhausted physically to even think about sex. There is nothing left to do just part ways, go to bed and forget this has ever happened. Except he doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. At all. He's been talking about his _killer_ pasta carbonara for the last 20 minutes nonstop and would like to know if there is any bacon and egg in the fridge. He wants to make dinner. All the while Damon is hooked up to an IV full of sedatives upstairs which becomes creepier and creepier the more I think about it. This whole situation is just so grotesquely fucked up but I bet he doesn't even notice. Of course not. He's a sociopath. Fucked up is normal for him. All he cares about in the world is destruction and pasta carbonara, and he only cares about the latter if it's _al dente_ (his words, not mine).

I can't take it anymore. I cut him short mid-sentence.

"What are you trying to achieve with this? You got what you came for, you made your point, rest assured I'm having a massive moral crisis. So...congratulations. Just get lost and forget this ever happened. I'm over it already."

First he looks surprised by my rude interruption but recovers quickly.

"I'm not leaving until you promise me something."

"Promise you what?" I sigh and clutch a handful of shirt over my heart theatrically. "Malachai Parker, I swear I will never give myself to another man, not until the day you cease to exist." I wipe the dramatic expression off my face immediately. "Satisfied? You can go now. Or you expect a promise ring too?"

"Haha. Very funny", he says humorlessly. I can tell he won't let me off the hook so easily. "I want a place and a date."

"A place and a date?"

"Yes. Specifically the place and the date of our little homeward journey." When I do nothing but stare at him, he raises his hands in mock defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll bring the sandwiches, you don't have to bother." Now he's the one who tries to take off the edge of the situation with a bad joke but it doesn't work better in his favor than it did in mine.

"If you seriously thought all it would take to convince me about letting you go back was screwing me once or twice, you got me completely wrong."

He's looming closer to where I stand. Heeere we go again.

"Nope, I didn't think it would make a difference. But you desperately wanting to get the hell out of here should. Our week of truce is almost over. How come Damon hasn't convinced you already? Damn, he's slower than I thought. Must be the age."

"Don't blame Damon for _me_ having difficulties with the thought of _you_ murdering an innocent family when it can be prevented."

"Duh, so it comes down to my loving family, again." When he talks, his voice goes up an octave and he changes his expression into something I've never seen on his face. I guess he tries to mimic me. "Poor little Parkers, someone must protect them from that vile sociopathic abomination, someone must be their knight in shining armor! Someone must come to their help and save them from that rotten black sheep of the family!" When he stops the show and looks at me again in all seriousness, I see an unexpected amount of contempt and hostility on his face. "Lucky for them, you're more than eager to make a sacrifice, even if it comes at your own expense. Too bad they don't deserve it."

Now I'm the one who steps closer. I want to hurt him so bad. We're almost chest-to-chest now.

"Everyone deserves to be protected from a monster like you." I almost spit out the last words.

"Wow, don't hold back anything, princess. If it wasn't you who rode this disgusting monster like your life depended on it about an hour ago, I might be a little bit offended."

"Fuck. You."

"No, fuck _you_ and your ridiculous heroine complex. Do you really think everything's going to turn peachy if you just stick by your principles? That your friends will come to your rescue eventually? Fat chance. I haven't seen them around lately, have you?"

"They will find a way."

"Okay, maybe they will. But what about until they do? Who's going to protect _you_ , Bonnie?"

My anger cools down in a heartbeat and suddenly I'm not that comfortable with standing so close to him.

"Protect me from what?" I sound too wobbly for my liking. I bet he catches upon it because a cruel smile spreads across his face.

"From me." I retreat involuntarily. "Do you really think I'll just step aside after having announced to decide keeping me here? That I'll be all 'That's OK, Bonnie, I like it here better anyway'?" I retreat until my back hits the dinner table. He follows. "You're so incredibly naive it's almost adorable. Well, it was if I haven't spent here 18 fucking years and wouldn't be ready to give anything to get out." He leans closer, if it's possible. "You can't stop me. Don't even try. I don't want to hurt you but I'll if I have to, understood?"

I want to be brave, I want to tell him to stuff it where the sun doesn't shine but standing face to face with him when he looks so intimidating doesn't help to gather the courage to strike back. As if I couldn't be more terrified, he lifts a hand and runs his finger over my jawline gently. My heart beats at a million. I don't dare to move. I don't even dare to breathe.

Just when I think he's going to either attack or kiss me, he turns around and starts to walk away. "Meet me tomorrow on the clearing under the beech trees. Tell Damon too. We're going home." He turns around and spares me a last glance. "Do I make myself clear?"

There are a thousand things I want to say and ask in this moment but I blurt out the first question I can think of.

"Why did you do it?"

Confusion is written all over his face.

"Do what?"

"Why did you kill them?"

He goes completely still. I can tell he is caught off-guard.

"Because..." For a moment he looks like he will tell me, tell me whatever can be told about this ugly story. For a moment I think he will pour his heart out. That he will put his trust in me. But then he looks at my face and he must see something he doesn't like because he asks suspiciously, "Why do you even care?"

Now it's my turn to be caught off-guard. At first I don't even know what to say. He's eyeing me way too mistrustfully so I decide to bring out the big guns. I turn my speech mode on.

"Because I want to understand why would anyone do this. It's obvious something bad happened to you. I just... I refuse to believe anyone can born evil. I know there has to be a reason you've become like this." He visibly cringes when I walk up to him and touch his face but I'm not backing down. Not now, not when there is a slight chance for a break-through. By now he looks more troubled than unfriendly. "Tell me what happened. Help me understand. Please." He averts my gaze stubbornly but can't hide the torture on his face. Like listening to me physically pains him. That's a start. When he finally speaks, I already know from the way he says that one little word that he wants to stop me.

"Bonnie..."

I hush him up with a finger over his mouth.

"Shhhh. Just tell me your story. I'm here to listen." I sound desperate, even to myself. "Please give me something. Tell me you regret it. Just show an ounce of remorse and we will work out the rest. We will go home together. In peace."

Finally he stops averting my gaze. When his eyes meet mine, I forget how to breathe because of the array of emotions I see in them. I've never seen him so vulnerable. So human. So real.

He opens his mouth to say something but it's easy to see he's struggling with his words. I lean closer eagerly.

His loud, uncontrollable laughter leaves me gobsmacked. I just stand there pathetically with a dumb expression on my face, like I was hit by something while he laughs so hard he has to wipe tears away from his eyes.

"Oh...fuck Bonnie...you should have...you should have seen...the look on your face..." Another uncontrollable wave of laughter hits him.

I'm the first to pull myself together. I can't restrain myself, I spring at him with everything I've got.

"You...twisted...miserable...shithead...you...fucking..." I hit every part of his body I can. He pins my arms down, still laughing, but I it's not enough to hold me back. I'm so mad I see red. I struggle one of my arms free and strike a blow as hard as I can. This snaps him out of his laughing fit because he throws me on the floor and rubs the spot on his head I've just hit.

"For fuck's sake, get a grip, Bonnie. It's not like you didn't deserve it."

I almost attack him again. To have the audacity to say something like that!

"Deserve? For what? For trying to help you?" I sound hysterical.

"For trying to be that annoying, self-deluding martyr again I've told you specifically _not_ to be. You've been in for a rude awakening for a while. Now you're getting it." He squats down in front of me and captures my chin with his right hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Let me teach you an important lesson about life, Bonnie. Some people are not worth saving. Some people are really born evil." He squeezes my chin hard to give his words emphasis. "Sometimes you can't have your cake and eat it too because a twisted sociopath stands in your way and there is no way to fix him because he's beyond fixing." I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I don't want him to see me cry. Not when his cold, lifeless gaze is burning a hole in me. I try to look away desperately, try to break my chin away from his hand but he holds it still. "And when this happens, you don't try to save him. You don't try to sabotage him either. What you do is stay the hell out of his way because he is dangerous." A single tear rolls down my face. "Because if you don't, he. Will. Kill. You." We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. I heave like a wild animal, probably look like one too with my dilated pupils and disheveled hair. When he finally releases me, I fall to the ground immediately. I leave my head the way it has fallen forward when he's let go because I can't bear the thought of looking at him. It's one of the most humiliating moments of my life.

I see from the corner of my eye that he stands up and I pray he's about to leave. "Tighten up, Bonnie. Life is not rainbows and butterflies. There are some really bad people out there. People like me. So kill or be killed."

There is no fight left in me. I just want him gone for good.

"Get out." It doesn't sound like me at all. It sounds like someone small and weak.

I can hear his footsteps fading away.

"Tomorrow morning at 10. Under the breech trees. Don't be late."

When the door finally closes behind him, I can't hold back the tears anymore. I cry ugly and loudly, hyperventilating hard, and only stop when I feel nothing but hollowness inside of me. Long hours pass before I can stand up and start to clean up the mess he's left behind.

Next time we see each other, I send an axe in his chest and he shoots me with a crossbow.

If nothing else, he taught me something important about myself: some people don't run away when a dangerous sociopath stands in their way. Some people tighten up and kill, even if it means they get killed too.

* * *

 **December 2017**

"Madam! Madam, are you all right?"

I jerk awake so abruptly I pull a muscle in my neck. The boy in front of the counter looks at me apprehensively. I'm sure I haven't seen him before.

"Yes, I'm all right, I just fell asleep." I look around hazily, still not completely awake. For a moment I can't comprehend where am I, what the time is and who is talking to me. The boy sounds genuinely sorry. "Madam, I'm sorry if it's not the right time for you, I just thought with the shop being open and all-" Oh, so I'm in the shop. Which means I fell asleep during work. On the counter. That's a new low.

Glancing at the clock tells me right away that I've slept at least 30 minutes. Great. Nothing promotes excellent costumer service and reliability better than the owner sleeping in her shop during work hours. I bet the whole town knows by now.

The boy still hasn't finished his incessant rant. He's got my undivided attention now, remaining the last unknown in the equation. All I have to do is spare a glance at his shirt to find out he is a delivery person. I break in upon his monologue. "It's okay..." a quick glance at his name tag, "...Peter. I'm alright. Actually, I'm thankful for waking me up. It's not the right time and place for a nap. Sooo... what do you have for me?"

As it turns there is a letter inside the package. It is hidden in a cream-colored, elegant envelope with neat, organized letters on top. My first thought is that it must be from a female. A rather graceful female. As soon as Peter is out of the door, I start to investigate the package. A quick check confirms it's completely non-magical. I don't recognize the handwriting, nor the return address. Huh. Strange.

As soon as I start to read, I realize what this is about. It's about business. The _other_ kind of business. The name and address are probably fake.

 _"_ _Dear Ms. Bennett,_

 _I'm in desperate need of a special kind of shampoo, a shampoo which - as far as I know - only you can provide. A mutual friend of ours has recommended your services, reassuring me that your products work very effectively and discretely. Please find his recommendation attached._

 _I'm having a tea at The Golden Willow tomorrow around 5. If you're interested in a very generous new customer, please feel free to join me. I'll be wearing black._

 _G.E.P."_

When it's closing time, I'm still wondering about who the mysterious G.E.P. might be, but I come up with nothing. Looks like I'll have to drop by The Golden Willow tomorrow to find out more.

* * *

 _A/N: Soooo. How'd you like it guys? Are you excited for this story or you are like, "Meh, I won't bother with the rest"? Did you like the cuter(ish) part, or should I stick to angst because it was awkward? (I definitely felt a bit awkward writing it so idk) Are the popcultural references yay or nay for you? Pleasepleaseplease, review! I don't care if you only drop by to tell me that my writing is horrible and I should never experiment with it again for the sake of mankind, I can take criticism, just pleeeeease if you've read it, share your thoughts on the story!_

 _(this is a rant from now on)_

 _I also wanted to tell you that it's NOT a flashback-story. Someone sent me a PM shortly after chapter 2 was published and basically accused me of being a copycat and ripping off Long Shadows because of the flashbacks. I swear I'm not! From about chapter 6 or 7, this story will be_ _strictly_ _linear. I never intended to use flashbacks in the first place, I wanted to start in the "present" (meaning the 2017 storyline) with a short prologue which tells how Bonnie got there but the longer I worked on the prologue, the more ideas I'd got so I decided to re-structure the first couple of chapters eventually because I really wanted to put these scenes into the story but I couldn't do it in one chapter, given their length and inconsistency. So I just want to let you know the story will be linear from the point when the "real" plot starts._

 _(Seriously though, I'm a HUGE fan of Long Shadows and Leia Nahberrie and I feel very bad it comes off as if I'm trying to copy her story. She's obviously the queen of all BonKai and I'm just a lowly peasant in her kingdown lol.)_

 _K, rant off, NO idea when chapter 4 will be up (although I will try not to wait another 3 moths with it haha) but as you can see reviews definitely help! :)_


	4. A Lady in Black

_A/N: Guys, I'm sooooooo sorry, I know I'm the worst of the worst but I had a really tough semester with very hardcore exams to pass like tax law (yuck) so I barely had time to sleep, let alone doing anything else except studying... BUT the exams are finally over and I spent two awesome weeks in Italy celebrating and relaxing! Now I'm completely renewed and free, ready to work on this baby and share it with you! I don't like to make promises I can't keep but I really feel like an update every 2 weeks or so is manageable in the rest of the summer and in September. I hope you enjoy the new chapter and forgive me that I've kept you waiting so long. (Rest of the personal stuff is after the story.) I also want you to know that this chapter is going to be very heavy and sad but I promise there is a reason for it (I mean besides me being a sadistic bitch of course) so if you've liked this story so far please just hold on, there is a reason for all of this sadness plotwise and I swear not all of the story is going to be this depressing. This is still just the prolouge, tip of the iceberg..._

 ** _I would like to remind all of you again that I've stopped watching TVD after episode 6X22 so I have no idea about the season finale or season 7 and honestly I don't even care. This story implicitly doesn't follow that route. Also, as you will see, the wedding has a slightly different plot in my story compared to the series, so does the aftermath of the events (which are partly explained, partly implied in this chapter). It's a deliberate decision on my part, not inattention. Don't get confused if the wedding scene or anything after that doesn't check up with your memory of that episode._**

* * *

 **December 2017**

The Golden Willow is not exactly a place I visit frequently, far from it. With its elegant celadon green paneling, stone flooring, gold-gilt decoration and a disturbingly high number of faux antique mirrors thrown into the mix, it is more of an old-fashioned salon for the prestigious matrons of Mystic Falls to have tea, gossip and show off their expensive jewelry than a cozy teahouse a 20-something would go for. As soon as I enter the door, I'm already reminded why I usually give this place a wide berth. Clad in my comfy leggings and a dark red leather jacket, I feel extremely out of place. My uneasiness only intensifies when the host notices me and walks in my direction, discretely eyeing me up and down with an almost unnoticeable look of disapproval. I already regret having decided against dolling myself up, not wanting to seem too try-hard.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hopkins. Welcome back to The Golden Willow. Can I take your jacket?"

Ahh, of course. _Miss Hopkins._

I've almost forgotten there was a short period of time when I was a frequent, almost constant guest at places like The Golden Willow. I remember the endless hours spent in uncomfortably tight dresses (somehow made of the same itchy fabric), sitting in disciplined silence with a wry smile on my face while my father was kissing up to the high society of Mystic Falls, trying to cement his newfound political position. He demanded me using Hopkins instead of Bennett because he thought it would reflect on him badly if we didn't show unity as a family. I've almost forgotten how much I hated every hypocritical minute of him being a mayor. Needless to say, I haven't set foot in any of these snobbish, outdated places since he died.

"Do you have a reservation, Miss?"

"No, I don't. Actually... I'm supposed to meet someone here. Is there anyone waiting for me? Bonnie Bennett?"

"Pardon me, Miss _Bennett_ , for having assumed that you still went by Hopkins. I'm not aware of anyone waiting for you. Could you give me the name of your company?"

The host looks at me expectantly but I fail to provide further details.

"I can't." He doesn't say anything, just arches an eyebrow. "I don't know the person I'm meeting yet. All I know is that I'm supposed to look for someone wearing black." When the words leave my lips, I realize the whole situation screams 'poorly set up blind date'. I feel insanely lame. "Does any of the guests... qualify?"

"Let me check for you. Should I look for a male or a female companion?"

"I'm not sure."

He raises his eyebrows even higher but says nothing in return, just turns around and walks away. As soon as he is out of earshot, I let out a breath I didn't know was holding. Next time I agree to meet a stranger, I'll at least ask for a name. Although to think of it, I didn't agree to anything, I was presented with fait accompli. Maybe it's not too late to get the hell out of here. I feel frowned upon by not only the staff and the rest of the guests but even the gaudy little golden cherubs hanging down from the chandeliers.

My self-contemplation is interrupted by the returning host.

"Right this way, Miss."

Time is up then. He leads me to a swing-door at the other side of the huge salon and holds it for me while I enter a smaller, less ostentatious room. There is a group of businessman sitting around a long, ovate table in the middle of the joint, two old ladies sipping coffee and chatting briskly right next to the door and a woman with her back turned to me by a window, all of them wearing some kind of black clothing. Great.

The host must see the perplexity on my face because he informs me with a hint of amusement in his voice, "The lady in black is waiting for you. The one sitting by herself."

"Thank you."

I'm taking my time studying her as I make my way to the table. So this is the mysterious G.E.P. She's definitely not what I was expecting. This woman looks much more fragile, sophisticated and significantly older than my average costumer, although the age factor isn't too obvious at first sight. Most women her age look tired and older than their actual age wearing black from head to toe but it fits her perfectly, even more so with her discrete set of pearl earrings and necklace. Simple yet impeccable.

Wearing her graying brown locks in a tight bun highlights further her aristocratic features, especially her faded blue eyes and tight lips. I know there is something disquietingly familiar about her clean-chiseled face but I can't really put my finger on it.

"And I thought such grave initials must cover a brooding old man."

She starts at my voice but masks it quickly by sending a politely guarded smile my way as soon as she looks up.

"So what exactly makes you think I'm not brooding and old?" The mysterious woman makes an airy gesture towards the free chair and I sit down obediently despite feeling uneasy at the way she commands me to do so. It's been less than a minute in her company and I can tell without a doubt she's one of those people who won't take no for an answer.

"You are definitely not old. Don't seem to be the brooding type either, although your choice of color might suggest otherwise." Then as an afterthought, I add curiously, "Why black? It's hardly the most conspicuous color. Doesn't really help to stand out from the crowd."

I get a sad little smile in return. Although her mouth curls upward, her eyes remain tired and serious. I know this look. These are the eyes of someone who has been through a great deal of pain and loss in her life. It's like watching in a mirror, only in an older edition.

"I'm wearing black partly because I'm grieving." Well done, me. Way to make some neutral, innocent small talk. Right in the poor woman's feels. "And partly because I have nothing against blending in. It's a wrongfully under-appreciated skill of the wise and collected."

"I didn't want to be so insensitive. I'm so, _so_ very sorry for your loss, Mrs...?"

"It's okay, honey. It's been a long time. Just call me Grace, there is no need for formalities."

"All right, Grace. I'm honestly very sorry about bringing this up, even unintentionally. I didn't mean any harm."

She's stirring her tea slowly, posture dimly illuminated by the thrown light from the sparkling chandeliers. While she must be at least in her mid-to-late fifties, there is an aura of elegance and dignity around her that makes her look almost ageless.

"You don't have to apologize. The damage has been already done a long time ago." Instead of trying to maintain an eye contact, she focuses on the swirling contents of her cup, seemingly lost deep in her thoughts. "Most people don't want to face that dying is an integral part of life. They don't want to see that it's not an error to be fixed nor a trap to escape. They're afraid to admit that it's natural. We born. We live." The stirring comes to an abrupt stop. She slowly looks at me, limpid blue eyes shimmering, her cold gaze holding mine for a moment. "And we all inevitably die, no matter how hard we try to secure our miserable existences. No matter how powerful we think we are." Like a switch has been flicked, the intensity of the moment evaporates when she smiles warmly at me. "But let's forget about these depressing thoughts, shall we? I didn't come here to gather sympathy, nor to give you a philosophical lecture. We're here to discuss business."

But I don't hear a thing she says. My mind helplessly wanders back to a time when wearing black and musing about life and death was an integral part of _my_ life, when the faint smell of decay clang to me like a second skin and the sultry air carried a stench of summer, rotting and finality.

* * *

 **June 2015**

Whenever I get my ass kicked in a major fight, I gain consciousness harder and harder after every single time. Elena says I'm just getting tired and I should rest for a while. Care says I'm probably getting old but at least I'm going to make a hot MILF. Whatever the cause might be, by this time it's bad enough to take about a zillion hours to wake up and remember where I am and what am I supposed to be doing.

First, it's only darkness. No voices, no smells, no images. Safe and sound.

It's all right.

Then my senses come alive and suddenly I start to _feel_ and damn, does it hurt to feel.

My skin must be burnt. My bones feel broken. Every little muscle and nerve in my body is on fire. I swear my lung has been punctuated by a thousand little needles.

I feel so fragile that I'm afraid to move because I might break for real.

Is it...? Could it be...? Am I finally dead?

I almost feel happy. And certainly very peaceful.

Then I hear a soft buzzing voice in the background.

It doesn't sound like the choir of angels my Grams promised I'd hear. More like…Drake singing Hot Line Bling?

So much for heaven, Bonnie.

* * *

I crawl in the direction of the buzzing and the faint light of the phone screen. It feels like there are miles separating me and my destination. When I finally reach it, the phone feels impossibly heavy as I try to hold it in my sloppy hands. I'm too drained. Whatever did this to me, it must have been hardcore.

Still too disoriented, my gut tells me I shouldn't really want to remember what happened. That I'm better off without those memories. So I give up and concentrate on the screen.

 _Stefan calling._

"Hey."

"Hey, Bonnie. Are you ok? You sound…off."

I honestly don't know what to tell him. So I wait and listen.

"Yeah, right. You're obviously not ok. Neither am I. We need a break, right?" He sounds off, too. Tired. Hopeless. "I promise you're getting your break. I just… I need you to help me first. I can't find Tyler, Caroline went to look after Ric who's still in shock, Damon has lost it again and I really want to make this mess gone and settled by the time he returns. Come over, will you?"

He hungs up and I feel like I'm going to pass out. Memories are slowly returning from last afternoon and it's not pleasant. I'm probably in some kind of aftershock as well but I push my brain to work harder. I need to remember.

First, there are only flashes of memories.

Soft music.

Flowers.

A white dress.

Jo, smiling warmly. Full of life and joy. So beautiful.

Alaric, standing at the altair proudly.

Ready to exchange vows.

And I want to leave this memory-searching at this point so desperately, I want to believe the wedding went as we hoped it would but I know there is more to the story.

This time I don't even have to fight for them, the memories return on their own.

A loud crash, much like an explosion.

Malachai Parker, appearing out of nowhere.

An unbearable noise.

Kai stabbing Jo.

Painful screams.

Blood, red and thick, running down on the wedding dress. Flowing on the floor.

Blood everywhere.

Kai killing himself.

The coven dying collectively. It's not pretty. I can tell they suffer a great deal before they go.

Kai transitioning.

The Heretics appearing.

Fighting them with everything I've got with a blind determination.

Caroline, Damon and Stefan with me.

Having less and less Heretics around us.

Caroline and Stefan chasing the rest of them out of the house.

Feeling extremely weak.

Kai snapping Damon's neck.

Then darkness.

Then…

Kai torturing me with Damon watching the whole thing.

The look in his eyes. The momentary hesitation.

Thinking I'm going to die. Thinking Damon will leave me there.

Damon killing him.

Then the discovery…

Elena...

Darkness...

No, I won't think about it right now.

I'll help Stefan clean up the mess. Then I'll cry my heart out.

But first I need to get this done.

As soon as my lifeless legs let me get up.

* * *

The room in reality doesn't look better than the one in the memory flashes did, on the contrary. There are piles of bodies lying across the floor amidst the ruined, bloody floral arrangements. Stefan stands in front of the window, turning his back to the awful scenery. I can understand. I clear my throat, although I know he could hear me coming form miles.

When he turns around, there are red veins under his eyes, his fangs out, hands shaking form barely checked hunger. I already know what he wants me to do.

"Alright, I'm getting rid of the bodies. Could you get me...I don't know, a truck, maybe?

He nods, leaves and returns with a school bus under 10 minutes. I'm tempted to ask how he's managed to get it so fast in the middle of the night while we arrange the lifeless bodies in the bus seats in mutual silence. When it's done, it looks like something out of a cheap horror movie. A school bus full of dead people, waiting for their final journey to begin. I'm not sure if I ever did anything remotely morbid, I think, as I turn the ignition switch on and leave for the forest with the piles of bodies in the pitch black town.

* * *

Have you ever tried to build a stake of dead bodies?

Let me tell you, it's not easy, especially for a woman my size. I'd have difficulties even moving a middle-sized dog, let alone a bunch of lifeless witches and vampires.

I sigh and sit down, knowing too well I'm better off lighting the whole damned bus up than trying to get the bodies out of the vehicle and bury or burn them.

I look around the seats, filled with their creepy passengers.

Ok, it's easy. I'll just have to get off, set this whole mess on fire and walk back to the boarding house. Easy-peasy.

Except I can't take off.

Not without him.

I gather the last of my abused magic to float his body across a broken window and put it down on the grass, safe distance from the bus I'm about to light up. Despite everything he's done, I can't bring myself to burn him with the others he hated so much. Or perhaps I pity the coven for what he did to them and I want to give them the courtesy of leaving this Earth without their murderer. Is it an act of mercy to him or to his victims? I can't tell. I can never tell anymore. The lines are too blurred.

Setting the bus on fire with an easy spell, I try to feel something for these people who probably left behind friends, family and lovers, who might have been decent people, who most certainly didn't deserve to die, not like this, not today, but after so much loss and death and isolation over the time I just can't bring myself to feel anything for strangers anymore. I feel dead inside.

I just turn away from the huge bonfire and sit next to his body.

"So…I guess this is goodbye." I trace my fingers gently over that perfect mouth, as if I'm afraid to wake him up, along the line of his nose and cheekbones and eventually get to close those once terrifying, now just empty and beautiful eyes forever. There isn't any hate in them anymore. The madness is gone and all I can see is the same peacefulness and normality that I only saw on his face once, on _that_ day, when he let me see another side of him. "But hey, we'll always have Paris. Or at least Portland, 1994." No use in joking. Jokes were his thing. And he's not around to hear them anymore.

Although I swore I'd never shed a tear again because of Kai Parker, I let myself go for the last time over his cold body.

I sob loudly and desperately, crying with an ugly face, heaving like a maniac. In this state of emotional distress and exhaustion, I bend over and whisper to him every useless lie and cliché I can think of - that it's my fault, that I should have forgiven and believed him when he told me that he'd changed, that it was cruel to bring him back to the prison world and leave him behind, that I've never really regretted that day we spent together in Portland and most of all, that I'm sorrysorrysorry, just please come back and undo this horrid mess, please.

It's pathetic, really. This is a murderer. This is an evil sociopath. He put my best friend to sleep forever, making me a target for his hardly stable boyfriend. Hell, he almost killed me just to prove a point. I must be out of my mind to cry. But I can't help it. All I can do is hope for my own sake that I'm crying for my own losses rather than for him.

It takes hours to get over myself and make an attempt to get up from the ground. I light up his body as the first rays of the rising sun appear on the dark, starless sky.

I watch as the flames consume Malachai Parker at the crack of dawn, feeling the heat of him turning into ashes and bones along with a new day coming but I feel nothing except emptiness.

Cold, unforgiving, unbearable emptiness. With a sense of finality.

* * *

On my way back to town, two remarkable things happen.

First, I get a text from Tyler.

 _'Turning into a werewolf again. Can't take the risk of harming any of you. Getting out of town for a while, searching for a pack to stay with. Take care.'_ I'm not surprised. It's the safe and logical move. Still, it stings. One more loss.

Second, a lone biker passes me, heading to the opposite direction, getting away from Mystic Falls with an almost dangerous speed.

When I find their house perfectly clean but otherwise empty, I know without a doubt it was Stefan.

One of the funniest thing about the Salvatores is that everyone thinks Damon is the emotionless brother while Stefan is some sort of gentle, caring person.

Not true.

While Damon often can be the meaner half of the duo, more theatrical, uncontrollable in every way, sometimes downright evil, his actions always hide burning passion, an inner conflict, or usually just quick temper.

Stefan...not that easy to read. And when it comes to situations like this, he is stone cold. He can disappear within an eye blink, and before you know what hit you, he's out of the border. That's what he does now, too, cutting all the loose ends and running away from his problems without saying a word, leaving no explanation except a note informing me that he got a coffin for Elena and put her in the basement.

As I said, he is cold sometimes. But for the first time, I can't really blame him. This time I know we're not going to make it as a team. Too much pain, too much death, too much loss and emptiness rushing the inevitable fall-apart. This is the beginning of the end. This is hell on earth.

* * *

 **December 2017**

I shiver unintentionally when I get to this part in my mind. I get goosebumps despite the temperature being unreasonably warm.

"Bonnie?"

Grace looks at my quizzically but I offer no explanation, just shake my head.

"Sorry about that. I get lost in my thoughts easily."

"I know the feeling."

I make an effort to return from memory lane and listen to this woman who undoubtedly wants me to do some extraordinary spell. Maybe black magic. If it was something simple like a locator spell, she wouldn't give me this big speech about life and death.

"So... Grace. What is it exactly you want me to do?"

"I want you to help me bring peace to the family I lost. The family I'm grieving."

For the first time since I've walked in, I don't see her otherwise unflappable coolness. I see her uncertain. Not a good sign. Her plan must be over-the-top crazy and she probably knows it.

"Okay... So you want me to see if I can find their ghosts? Do you want me to deliver a message for them? For...like...closure?"

"Not exactly." She finally lifts her cold gaze from her finger tracing patterns on her napkin. "I want you to bring them back. In a sense."

Hoo boy. This is not going to be easy. I make a mental note to never, ever again meet up with someone blinded by grief.

I don't even find the right words at first.

"Look, Grace. I don't know how to serve this gently so I'm just going to put it out there. I can't bring them back. Even if I could, even if I had that kind of magic right now... There is no chance I would try. I've already done that once and I almost died. I mean, I did, at least literally, and it wasn't easy to come back. Not to mention how much it messed up the balance of nature. Spoiler alert: big time. It's complicated to explain, but..."

"It's okay, honey. You don't have to. I'm not talking about a spell that could upset the balance. I want to try a different approach. Just hear me out. I have a plan."

Before she can get into explaining her _fantastic_ plan, I raise a hand and stop her bluntly. I'm trying to save time before I inevitably have to decide whether I want to be rude and leave her on the spot, or I want to sit there the whole night, listening to some batshit crazy rambling for hours before I can get out without hurting her feelings.

"I just don't get it. Why the big speech about having to accept death when you can't even do it? I mean, I respect your choices, I just don't get your point."

She looks to me as if contemplating how much she can share with me without risking getting called crazy.

"I usually consider myself a strong person, you know? Before this...accident happened, I thought I had known everything about sorrow and grief. I didn't. Turns out you don't know anything about misery until you lose everyone you ever cared about" she snaps her fingers "just like that, in one fatal moment, without a warning, without explanation. I can't even tell you how it feels, Bonnie. One moment you have everything, you can see yourself getting old in peace with your family, then next it's like the Earth opened up and swallowed them and there goes every joy and love you've ever felt in your life, too." I see a quick spasm distort the poor woman's face as she leans closer to me, grabbing a fork in the process involuntary. I lean back warily. "Suddenly you find that you don't have anything to live for, no plan, no reason, no destiny, nothing. Zero. You just hit the ground, hard. And when you reach rock bottom, you have two choices. You do something to change the situation, try the impossible, or you give up and end your miserable life. I decided to do something, to work out a plan and it gave me something to live for. I feel like my existence has a purpose once again. My inability to accept their death saved me somehow. Trust me, Bonnie, there are points in life when you have to give up rationality and just believe. If I didn't, things could have gone nastier. Not everyone gets this lucky."

Her words echo in my head as I say, hypnotized by her words, "No. Not everyone. I knew someone who didn't."

* * *

 **July 2015**

"Come ooon, Care! I'm getting tired of this. We have to get back in time."

"Oh, hush! Matt promised he'd cover the whole afternoon. We've got aaaall the time in the world", she says, putting on a different pair of Gucci glasses. Girl has expensive taste lately, I think, as she turns around and strikes a pose. She's also restless, but like hyperactive-restless, always on the move. "How do I look?"

"Like a fly-eyed Barbie on coke." I pinch her overpriced glasses. "With a sugar daddy."

Caroline beams at me like I meant it as a compliment.

"Woo, perfect! I'm taking it."

I look at her cart critically.

"You've already got another one. Plus two, if last week counts."

She scoffs indignantly.

"So, what? We have to live while we're young!

"Care, you're literally young forever. And no one has that much glasses."

"You're such a party killer!" she complains. "Still getting the glasses." She looks around the clothes, searching for another victim. "And that cute dress. Maybe that pink, too."

I stop my cart abruptly and grab her arm before she has the chance to disappear between the piles of clothes for an hour or two.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong? I'm perfectly fine, thank you! I'm just trying to have a good time."

"But this goes beyond normal. You act like a maniac. Why are you so cheerful and...fast all the time? I get exhausted just by standing next to you!"

The other customers keep clear of us and the potential drama that's about to unfold. The pair of us probably look like we're ready to attack each other.

"Oh I'm sorry, _Granny_ , I didn't know having a little bit of fun offends you so much! What are you, the good mood police? This constant depression and negativity is just too much. What's up with that?"

"What's up with that? _What's up with that!?_ Are you serious right now?" I start to count on my fingers, going over an imaginary list. "Elena is dead, well, at least for me she is, Jo and her twins are dead, Liv and Luke are, guess what? Also dead! Tyler is a werewolf and he's gone, Stefan just disappeared and I have a feeling he's not coming back anytime soon, Ric is in some kind of apathy and I'm not sure he'll ever snap out of it, which is understandable, because, poor Ric, every time he tries to start again, this happens, his girlfriends just drop dead, and now his babies too, and that must be much to take in, right? Damon and Lily are bonding in Europe, which is nice I guess, but let me tell you how much it sucks to know that losing Elena meant losing Damon, too! Do you know how much it pains me that he had to run from me to the other side of the world, unable to stay in Mystic Falls with us, because, I quote, deep down he feels like I'm standing between him and Elena and he doesn't trust himself around me? Way to make me feel like I was worth the sacrifice! And", I hardly realize but by now I'm almost shouting, "if this whole mess wasn't enough already, if I wasn't depressed enough, sometimes I remember how all of my family is dead and how I don't have anyone in the world, and you seriously ask what's the matter with _me_? More like, what's the matter with _you_? Pray tell me, Caroline, what reasons are there for you to be so happy all the time?"

I've gotten into my pep talk so deeply that I never realized Caroline is on the brink of tears, looking at me like a 4-year-old little girl who's been just told there is no Santa Claus, me being the big bad adult who informed her, of course.

"Do you really think I'm not aware? Do you think me so dumb? I know exactly, Bonnie, I feel it everyday, with Elena and Mom gone, Stefan going AWOL on me, you know… I'm just trying to deal with it another way, because the last couple of months have been so rough that I'm not sure I can shed another tear and not want drive a stake through my own heart." When a fat tear spills out of her left eye and rolls down her cheeks, the floods open and she starts to cry desperately. My anger evaporates instantly. Caroline has lost a lot, too. I'm an asshole. "I might be in denial, I might be going crazy, that's fine, but I won't stay in bed and cry all day, all week, all month, because I had too much of those days after my mom died and I'm not sure I can get through another one."

Caroline has that extraordinary talent when you stay beautiful even when you cry. She is a vision even with teary eyes, messy hair and a running nose. Even when she is crying uncontrollably. My heart aches for her. I pull her into my arms and swear to myself that I'll do anything in my power to help her through this disaster we live in right now.

"Oh, Care, I didn't know, I didn't think…I was just stupid and selfish. I'm so sorry." She weeps into my shirt miserably, leaving me to feel completely helpless because I can't do anything for her except stroking her hair awkwardly. "It's OK. We'll get through this. We always do. The guys will come back eventually, Stefan will realize how much he misses you soon, Ric will get better, and one day you'll even get to see Elena too, ok? Until then, you have me and Matt, I promise…"

My phone goes off in the middle of my clumsy attempts at comforting her.

"Hey, Mattie, listen, it's not the best ti-"

"Just get back."

I know that voice of his. I know something bad has happened.

"What's the matter?"

"It's Ric. He… Just come. Quick."

* * *

Matt is a mess. He tears at his own hair while he does his best to explain.

"...and I thought, hey, it's not like he's moved all day, right? He's been staring at the same spot for weeks, so I thought it wouldn't be a big deal to get a shower, tidy up the kitchen and so on, you know how little rest I've been getting lately, between my shifts and looking out for him, and yeah, I admit I fell asleep accidentally, but I swear I didn't mean to, I only sat down for a minute or two, just to relax a little, after all, I'm only human...then I woke up and he was like this and...

His voice cracks and he doesn't continue. He doesn't need to. The bloody bed, the razors in Ric's lifeless hands, the cuts on his forearms and the inhumanly white skin tells us all we might want to know about his last hours.

Poor Matt. He clearly blames himself. I wrap him in a tight hug.

"It's not your fault. It was his life and he made this decision."

"I wish I could go back in time and stop him. I wish I could help."

"We all do. But it's no-one's fault." That's a lie. I know exactly whose fault it is. And his name isn't Matt. "It's just the way things are now."

We stay like this for long minutes, hold onto each other, comforting and getting comforted.

It's only hours later when I realize Caroline disappeared somewhere between Matt's explanation and my attempts to comfort and she's not getting back, not even for the funeral next week. Or the week after that. Or the one after that. No one can reach her anymore. She doesn't answer phone calls or texts, not even mine.

* * *

 **December 2017**

"I'm sorry for your loss. I bet it was hard to process."

Grace looks at me with barely restricted empathy and sadness. Maybe pity. It's been a long time since someone looked at me like this. She touches my hand with sympathy which makes it so much worse. I'm not used to gentleness anymore. It makes me weak and teary.

"It was." My throat starts to close up so I withdraw my hand and raise my glass to drink, trying to save time and fight off the urge to cry. I bet she looks right through my act.

"Then you must understand why I'm doing this. And I don't ask for much. I only need you to sit there for a little longer and listen. That's all."

Against my better judgement I agree. If that's what she needs to get on with her life, then fine. I can still decline after listening to what she has to say.

"Okay. So...brief me on your plan, please. I assume this isn't a regular family we're talking about."

"No, it isn't. A lot of people in my family had supernatural powers."

"Which was...?"

"Magic. There were a lot of witches in my family. They're dead now. All of them."

"So...you are...?"

"No, honey, I'm not. Otherwise I would be dead as well."

"How so?" I knit my eyebrows. It doesn't make any sense.

"They were killed because of their powers. Only a few of us remains alive, all of us human."

"Okay, so please help me put this together. There were humans and witches in your family, correct?"

She nods.

"Then all of the witches were killed, and the humans stayed alive." She nods again. "Care to explain?"

She sighs deeply and nods, looking really tense all the while. She averts my gaze too, looking at something behind me, signaling for someone, probably the waiter.

"See, when I said 'family', I wasn't utterly clear. It would have been more appropriate to call this part of my family a coven. The leader of the coven got killed so the rest of the witches died, too, because of their magical bond. Although it didn't affect the humans."

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. This sounds _very_ familiar. My insides turn to ice and I pray I'm wrong about this one while I know there is not a chance. That would be way too much coincidences. I kind of don't believe in coincidences anymore. I start to gather my belongings slowly, ready to get the hell out of here and run if I turn out to be right.

"It feels like I have heard this story before. What was the name of the coven?"

She smiles bitterly, probably because she sees on my face I've made the right assumptions.

"Oh I bet you did. And I bet you have figured out by now which coven I'm talking about."

There is no trace of the woman I've been talking to about grief and death, who looked at me with so much sympathy. She's someone else. A cold and dangerous stranger. Probably crazy too. I raise from my seat, ready to leave.

"I do, but I've heard enough. It was a pleasure, Grace, but I really have no intention to-"

She looks behind me again and commands, "Sit". I don't intend to sit down. In fact, I intend to turn around and get away, but strong hands grab me and force me to do as she says, holding me down by my shoulders. I look up surprised and see the men from the other table whom I misinterpreted as businessman earlier stand around me in a small circle, all the five of them wearing a threatening expression. Great. Now I have to fight them too to get out.

"I see you've brought along company. Should have introduced them earlier. Although, to think of it, you haven't introduced yourself properly either."

"That's something we can remedy easily." She extends her hand but I'm not willing to take it. I'm crossing my hands in front of my chest instead. "Fine. Be like that. My name is Grace Evelyn Parker."

"I've figured out your surname by now. And I'm still not staying. _Motus!_ " With that, I send two of the men holding me down flying through the room, tie Grace to her chair magically, jump up and spin around, ready to give anyone hell who stands in my way. Three men remains. One of them reach into his pocket but I leave him no time to get out whatever he intends to use on me, instead I send him crashing into one of his buddies, not stopping until they hit the wall. I hear cracking bones so I try to be less violent with the last one, taking him out with a simple sleeping spell. He drops to the floor instantly. I waste no time, running in the direction of the swing door, wanting to disappear from the scene before they have a chance to collect themselves. I'm almost there.

But just before I could break free, one of the old ladies next to the door stands up with great difficulty and lumps in my way, using a cane.

What is this crazy woman doing? Does she have a bad hearing? Maybe she thinks I'm a criminal and tries to stop me. I would admire her bravery if it didn't come in the worst time possibly.

"Move!" I shout. I don't want to hurt helpless old ladies but I will move her away with force if she won't do it on her own. To emphasize this intention I raise my hand, but she just stands there with a sunny expression on her face. All right, old hag. I've run out of patiance.

I arrive to the door, standing face to face with her. "Motus!" But to my greatest surprise, nothing happens. She doesn't move an inch, only her smile grows bigger. "Motus!", I repeat, but again, nothing.

I don't even panic as she walks to me and touches my hand gently. I'm not even afraid. What could she do to me? She can barely stand. My head is empty.

The last thing I remember is a pair of dark and warm eyes, looking at me from an almost hundred-year-old face, shining mischievously, a touch of very old, almost silklike skin and raspy yet kind voice. "I'm really sorry about this, child."

Then I feel a magical stroke, stronger than I've ever felt before, knocking me off my feet and darkness comes over me.

* * *

 **August 2015**

Summer is almost over but the heat doesn't seem to go anywhere. Nights are hot, days are even hotter, I can't sleep properly and the flowers in my garden are dying despite watering them several times a day. That's about it. That's what my life has become. Sleeping, watering plans, sleeping again. The epitome of emptiness and boredom.

Caroline is still nowhere to be found. It's been almost a month and I'm getting insanely worried.

That is, until I find her in my living room one morning after I wake up, looking perfect as ever, sitting on my trunks and doing her nails casually. I can't believe my eyes. I approach her varily, afraid that it's just a dream or my mind playing tricks on me. She still doesn't look up.

"Care?"

"No shit." She puts down her nail file eventually and looks at me. I can tell right away something is off. She's not smiling, not even a bit. She looks emotionless.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came for you."

"Oooookay? But where have you been? What happened to you?"

She sighs, visibly annoyed.

"So after that loser checked out I was really down, you know, couldn't cope with one more death, yadda yadda, so I turned it off and it was like, whoah, no more pain and moaning, which was really refreshing, like you couldn't imagine, so I went to Vegas, partied a bit, drank much, lost even more money, but then I got bored so I decided to come back and pick up my former second BFF -ouch, sorry-, packed for you while you were asleep, and...tada!" She exclaims fake-cheerfully, pointing to my packed trunks. I'm amazed by the fact she tells the whole thing without taking a break to breathe. Some things just never change. "We're good to go. Just put on some clothes that you didn't inherit from your Grams, you look really boring. I'm waiting in the car."

A dozen questions race before me but I start with the most important.

"But... Where are we going?"

She is in the doorway already with my stuff but she turns around and winks at me.

"Back to college, bitch."

* * *

 _A/N: Soooo I really loved to write this chapter, and although there is no Kai in it (well, only in body haha) I hope you still enjoyed it and getting intrigued by the plot as much as I am! (Yes, I'm getting intrigued by my own plot. I'm lame.) Are you excited for Grace's plan? How about emotionless Caroline? Do you dig her as much as I do? As always, I would love to hear what you think about it! I can see a lot of you are still reading my story and came back for the last chapter too, so I don't really get the lack of feedback. Or it's like a hateread to you? Nevermind, I'm happy so many of you are reading Rinse, repeat and now that I have less responsibilities, I will try to update more often. I appreciate everyone who favourited/followed/took their time to review, thank you so much guys! But I'm especially grateful to one person, the same guest who left the first review that led me to continue this story, so this goes to you (I would PM you, but I can't): I was really pumped up by your long review and I can't tell you how grateful I was for it! It came when I was in the worst of my exam period and it gave me a huge amount of motivation to get through my exams and continue this story. As for the plagiarism accusations, you were completely right, I was just trying to make it sure everyone understands. I hope you like this chapter too and if not, hope you will tell me why :)_


	5. Life on Hold

Chapter 5: Life on Hold

 _A/N: Hey lovelies, I'm sorry. Again. I couldn't update when I promised I would because I got a new job in August and it's HELL, seriously, I work overtime every single day, plus I still have a few exams and I have to write my thesis as well. I'm so busy right now that it took almost 3 months to write and translate this chapter which really sucks because if it was up to me, I would write for a living and would work on my stories daily. What I'm trying to say is I'm really sorry to have caused you disappointment. Still, I hope you'll like this chapter as much as I loved to write it. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **August 2015**

"I'm still not sure about this."

"About what? Getting out of this rathole?" She takes her lifeless eyes off the road and glances at me without much apparent interest before turning her head back. "It's a little late for that."

"No, I'm talking about you and your...condition."

Caroline doesn't react this time, her hands stay on the steering wheel, eyes on the road. We rush toward Whitmore in her brand new Rover, passing through dark forests and barren fields at top speed. I still don't know why have I even decided to get into this car. This is definitely creepy. The person next to me is like a stranger, designed to look just like Caroline, trying to copy her behavior but failing miserably because general bitchiness and crude remarks aren't all what Caroline Forbes is about. No, she is about a lot of more things, things that this cold caricature of hers cannot possibly fathom.

"What about my so-called condition?"

I sigh and tear my gaze away from the ever changing landscape.

"I don't feel safe with you. Not like this."

"Gosh, just spare me the drama. I don't care about your feelings. Whatever it is, just get over it."

"Go to hell, Care."

I'm waiting for some objection, some drama, even willing to get into a screaming match with her, but she remains silent, not even blinking. This is not Caroline. If it was her, she would be in the middle of an angry rant about how I'm not going to tell her off. Unlike Caroline, the person next to me just nods.

"Fine. Go on, pour your heart out, I don't care, just be done with it already."

"Caroline Forbes, too cool for drama. Who knew we would see the day."

"Bonnie Bennett, finally not saving the world because she doesn't have anyone left to save. Who knew, right?"

Trying not to give into her obvious provocation, I decide agains commenting on that.

"Yeah, right. I'm not trying to create drama here, I just really don't see how this whole 'going-to-Whitmore-together' thing could work out. Just try to see it from my point. Your humanity is off meaning you don't feel anything for me. What does it matter to you at this point if I die? How do I know you won't suck me dry when you wake up hungry in the middle of the night? Or snap my neck the first time you get annoyed by me?"

"If I snapped your neck the first time you started to annoy me, you would have never made it as far as senior year. Neither would Elena. No, actually...Elena would have never made it to junior year."

I'm stunned.

"I get that you don't feel anything. But why do you have to be such a bitch? That's so uncalled for."

"I'm not a bitch. I'm just stating facts. It was supposed to be reassuring."

"Reassuring how?!"

"Pointing out that I can control my instincts perfectly. Always have and always will. I didn't kill you or Elena, not even when you were really getting on my nerves."

"Wow. Thanks, I guess." Even if she gets the sarcasm, she doesn't react to it. "And how should I know exactly that you're in control? I don't know this version of you." I know it's pointless to lash out at this new Caroline, but I don't care. My feelings have been bottled up for too long. I raise my voice unintentionally. "I didn't even know whether you were alive or dead until this morning."

"Technically? Dead. Otherwise? Very much alive."

"Yeah, I know, Vegas, wild parties, casinos, you've already mentioned. Thanks for keeping in touch, by the way."

I shouldn't be so hostile to her. What if I push her past her breaking point?

"Boo-hoo, poor little Bonnie, sitting at home all summer, feeling sorry for herself, waiting for a call from her last friend while I feed on rockstars in Vegas. How very tragic. Almost makes me cry. Except that I don't care."

Enogh is enogh. I snap.

"That's it. Stop the car and let me out, psycho."

She doesn't even bother to look at me.

"Not a chance."

I grab for the handle, about to open the door when she hits the breaks and I involuntarily fall forward. For once Caroline actually turns toward me and looks into my eyes seriously.

"Okay, listen to me, Bonnie. I don't have any emotion right now, that's true. Not for you. Not for anyone in the world. Sure, I'm probably a bitch to you, too. The thing is, I don't care. So if you want to get out of Mystic Falls and come with me to college, you will have to suck it up. I won't be your friend. We won't have a girls night out or braid each other's hair. I won't even be nice to you. But", she looks at me again, this time her face not completely blank, "as I've already told you and the Scooby Gang, turning off my humanity doesn't make me stupid. It just makes me empty. That's all. I won't get crazy and roam around killing people, leaving mess behind because I am still smart enough to know that I don't need trouble. I don't need the police or some hunter trace me down and give me hell. So chill out, I'm not killing anyone. Especially not you."

"Especially not me? But why?"

"Because you are too valuable for me. First, you are a witch. I could always use your help. Second, as much as I appreciate being like this, I know that statistically there is a chance that I will be forced to turn my humanity back on. It wouldn't be the first time."

"...And?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? If I switch it on, that annoying, weakling crybaby version of me would probably be devastated if you were dead and I'm so done with her depressing bullshit."

I'm almost touched by this confession, despite knowing she's not exactly Caroline, only a copy of hers, led by her robotic mind and reasons. My expression probably softens because she scoffs at me immediately.

"Snap out of it. As I said, I don't feel shit for you right now."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get it." I sigh. "So what's the plan? Why bring me along at all?"

"There is no plan. I just want unlimited access to blood without raising suspicions. Also, I want to be surrounded by really dumb and frequently drunk people who won't notice a few bite marks here and there. The perfect place for that? Whitmore. Especially if you are a girl and if you are hot. Which I am." She spares me a sideway glance. "Not so sure about you right now."

Surprisingly, her rude comments slowly cease to hurt me. They make me feel...easier. I don't get one iota of sympathy or sadness from Caroline and it's truly refreshing. For the first time in months, I don't feel like an enervated zombie, like a heavy bag full of depression and darkness.

"Umm, okay? I still don't get what do you need me for?"

"Because I need a roommate who is not a clueless idiot. And because you have magic. I better keep you close."

For the second time in my life, I can't believe what I'm about to agree to. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Fine, but I'm leaving the moment you seriously hurt or kill someone. That is only after I drove a stake right through your heart."

"Fair. Oh, and you can't try to make me turn on my humanity."

I grit my teeth.

"And no more mentions about Mystic Falls."

She nods, then reignites the engine.

"Deal."

With that, we are on the road again. Caroline's carelessness must be contagious because instead of complaining further about my abduction or worrying about the future, I just shrug and turn on the radio. Tunes of some one-hit-wonder DJ's party anthem fill the space. I start to hum along, just a little bit. With boredom evident on her pretty face Caroline examines me, but doesn't say anything.

So who cares if it's not exactly the right thing to do? If it's not friendship? At least for a moment I don't feel dead. Give me anything not involving suicides, monsters and endless grief with heavy, life-sucking guilt and I'm good.

Besides, I need to look after Caroline, right? I will just stay with her for a while until I figure out how to bring her back. What's the harm in getting away for a semester or two? It's not like I'm leaving anything behind, except for a couple of graves, horrible memories and a coffin in my basement. Sadly, they are not going anywhere.

* * *

 **December 2017**

I wake up to the sound of my own teeth clattering, feeling unbearably cold. If the temperature is any indication, I'm locked inside a fridge.

Where am I? What happened? For how long was I out? The unnatural darkness around me doesn't help to answer these questions.

Exploring my surroundings I realize my hands are tied to something massive, probably the chair I'm sitting on. I try to untie myself with magic but don't do better than the last time I tried to use it.

Not a good sign. In fact, that's a very, very bad sign.

Panic rises in my chest and my vision gets blurry, darkened by the familiar dark spots.

Before I could have a chance to scream for help or have a full-blown panic attack, someone switches the light on without a warning and it shines with the light of a thousand suns, blinding me immediately. I shut my eyes quickly.

"Ow! What the hell?"

Someone with a deep voice chuckles at this.

"Now look at that, Sleeping Beauty has finally deigned to wake up. Tell Reginald to gather the council." Then someone leaves, judging by the sound of fading footsteps.

Council? Reginald who? Just _where_ am I?

I open my eyes slowly, letting them enough time to adjust.

The scene finally unfolding could be best described as grotesque.

I'm in some kind of cave, the scary kind, you know, with stone walls, skeletons, medieval torture equipment and all, but this is not the most disturbing part. Two men stand before me swathed in grey robes, tight fitting hoods hiding their faces.

I'm sure there is a logical explanation to all of this but my imagination fails me. The whole scenario is just surreal. Maybe I'm drugged. Maybe I have finally gone crazy. Not willing to show fear, I speak more confidently than I feel inside.

"So what is this place, guys? Charming interior design, by the way. Am I in hell?"

The one I've heard talking before just chuckles and shakes his head.

"Not exactly. Welcome to Portland, Oregon."

"Thanks, but I'd rather be in hell."

Although the other man has stayed silent until now, he steps closer threateningly, clearly not finding me amusing at all.

"Careful what you wish for. You just might get it."

So much for the polite approach.

"I've taken care of bigger fishes than a couple of loony Parkers playing masquerade."

"Good. Because we're not the Parkers and this is not a game, witch."

I guess they are already over the conversation, given that they turn and prepare to leave without telling me anything worthwhile except that I'm in the worst place on Earth, my personal hell, freaking Portland of all places. So far not so bright.

"Wait! Then who are you? Why am I here?"

I expect further ignorance but surprisingly the friendlier of them stops and says, "The council will explain everything in due time. As for who we are, we are called the Keepers. Keepers of Balance."

I'm exceptionally well informed when it comes to covens and other supernatural societies but this name doesn't ring any bell. They leave me alone in the freezing cave, still clueless and terrified of the unknown.

* * *

 **November 2015**

"CAN I GET YOU A DRINK?"

"SORRY, WHAT?"

"I SAID, CAN I GET YOU A DRINK?"

The music is too loud, my feet hurt like hell and he is definitely not my type. No, I'm not wasted enough to even consider him. It's been a while since pretty, dumb jocks have been my thing. I smile politely, shake my head and move away with the crowd slowly, not wanting to reject him too bluntly but not wanting to stay either.

Another Friday night, another college party. This time it's at some chick's place with obscenely rich parents. The theme? Playboy, I kid you not. There are dozens of Kendra, Holly and Bridget-wannabes dancing along shamelessly with wasted guys wearing the same Heffner-inspired dark red smoking jacket. Classy. I hope my Grams and dad don't see me right now. They would die of embarrassment if they weren't already dead.

I enter a room called "Bunny Heaven", or at least that's what the board says above the doorframe. Inside there is exactly what you'd imagine: a sea of flesh and boobs, sweating bodies grinding against each other. Some of the girls are almost totally naked but have body paint "covering" their most intimate parts. There is a dance floor and stage for any so-called bunny who is willing to show off her dance moves. And of course, in the back of the room, there is the infamous grotto. I call it the HPV steam dungeon because only God knows what kind of viruses and bacteria have moved into the crevasses and taken over.

One of the girls inside notices me and starts to wave wildly. "Hey, Connie! Jump in!"

There is not enough alcohol in the world that could make me set a foot in that pool, not in this lifetime. I pretend not to notice her and move along quickly before one of the boys gets the idea to throw me in the water against my will.

I know what you probably think about me right now. I've become a cliché. I've become some shallow college bimbo.

The truth is, in a sense, I have. And sometimes it feels like the best decision I could've made.

See, I'm not Bonnie Bennett here. I'm not a witch with dead friends and horrifying secrets. I'm nothing special. Meet Connie Beckett from Richmond, an average college girl with an average life, with petty problems and shallow friends. I've become so great at pretending that sometimes I forget this is not who I am. Who I used to be.

I'm searching for Caroline; it doesn't take too long to find her. She is half hidden in the darkest spot of the terrace, holding onto a guy who looks like a Greek god, completely enchanted by Caroline who is kissing his neck passionately.

At least that's how "Connie" likes to fool herself these days.

In reality the guy is probably compelled and Caroline is having her dinner at the moment.

I make an effort to look away as I always do before I could see the ugly truth, but this time I'm not fast enough. My eyes are glued to the scene. The pair moves an inch to the left and the outdoor lamps illuminate his face perfectly. He gazes into the distance unfocused, eyes empty and mouth agape in frozen fear.

Caroline, sensing that someone is watching, turns around and looks me dead in the eye. Realizing it's only me, she licks her bloody lips, winks at me and turns back to her squeeze of the night.

My heart races nervously at the sight. I don't want to admit but witnessing this makes me feel extremely uncomfortable. I know she won't kill him, she never does. But the way she uses these people, just like a puppet master uses and controls her helpless puppets, turns my stomach violently.

Bonnie Bennett would stop this insanity. She would protect these humans, even if that would mean the end of the party, even if she lost her best friend. Well, her fake best friend.

But Connie Beckett? Connie is not that kind of girl. She turns away with great effort, closes her eyes for a minute, then rushes to the nearest bar and orders a couple of drinks.

Connie is a coward.

While I take shot after shot to help me forget, I wonder how much longer can I live this shiny, fake illusion of a life.

 _How much can you take before you snap, Bonnie?_

* * *

 **December 2017**

I don't know how much time passes before they come back for me. Somewhere between playing out the worst possible scenarios in my head, freaking out over them and finally manage to calm myself down, only to start it all over again, I've lost my sense of time and reality.

I only know from the lack of circulation in my legs that I've been in the cave for at least a few hours when they finally come back, cut the ropes without a word and pull me up roughly from the chair. One of the hooded lunatics pulls out another hood from his robe and lifts it over my head.

"Come on, is this really necessary?" I try to protest, but the hood is already around my head, leaving me in total darkness. Someone grabs my right elbow and I need to fight off the urge to burn the intrusive hand.

"Move!" says the owner of said hand, then adds, like he can read my mind, "As you probably already know, your magic means nothing under these roofs. No use in trying. Now move!"

They lead me through endless corridors, up and down a thousand stairs, taking a turn in every two seconds and just when I finally give up on hope we'll ever reach our destination, whatever it might be, we finally stop and and the hood gets removed.

We stand in front of a heavy wooden door, or more like a gate, with a huge KB carved into it. At first I think we are going to enter, but none of the guards move. So we wait. And wait. And wait.

I really don't intend to be nosy but I lose my patience after an hour or so.

"So is there anything supposed to happen now or we are here to admire the door? I'm not saying it's not a fine piece, really, excellent woodwork, but I've already observed every single crack and it's getting exhausting."

The shorter and more intimidating of them informs me in an icy tone, "You will enter as soon as the Council of Elders allows you to do so. Until then, you wait. In silence."

Then he goes back ignoring me.

I'm seriously considering talking back to him, just to get a kick out of it, just to entertain myself, when the aforementioned elders or some higher forces eventually take pity on me and the door opens amidst earsplitting creaks. But the worst is yet to come. A thunderous voice above my head declares, loud enough to wake the dead from their sleep:

"Bonnie Sheila Bennett, you've been summoned by the high and mighty Keepers, protectors of the balance of nature, enforcers of the highest orders. You shall be admitted to the presence of the Council of Elders. Leave your magic behind and make a sacrifice."

* * *

 **January 2016**

Caroline is sleeping peacefully while I'm lying awake in the next bed, unable to give in to my exhausted body. My brain is having none of it.

I've been insomniac in the last few weeks and I know exactly why: my guilty conscience is keeping me up every night.

I toss and turn in bed, settling eventually on my left side, facing Caroline.

She looks so innocent and young like this.

She's not anymore.

She's not even Caroline.

She's just a badly made caricature, a bloodthirsty doppleganger, a violent echo of someone I used to know.

And I've done nothing to stop her becoming this monster who manipulates and destroys, who uses and discards human beings like they were nothing.

I'm the worst of the worst, lowest of the lowest.

I have to admit it was fun at first.

I had been so bored, so fed up with grief and depression that I basically jumped at the opportunity to leave everything behind when she appeared in my living room and convinced me to join her. She offered the perfect momentary solution.

I even liked her unfeeling behavior a bit because it made it easier to pretend I didn't feel anything either.

It created a false sense of normalcy. We didn't cry, didn't dwell on the past, instead we danced, drank, we almost had fun.

Almost.

But unfortunately, I can't deny anymore that I don't like the kind of person we've become. We both turned soulless in our own way and it doesn't feel fun anymore, it just feels sad and desperate.

These boys, parties, drinks, fake friends are nothing but parts of a huge illusion, an illusion created to stop numbing pain but in reality, I'm still in pain, I'm still lonely and I need to get over it.

But not like this.

We need to do it properly, both Caroline and I.

The only question is, how do I convince her to turn back her humanity?

I tried to imply once or twice last week that maybe she should try it sometime but she got murderous even by the suggestion, going as far as threatening to hurt me if I tried to pull any tricks on her.

Long story short, she won't cooperate.

I need help.

Easier said than done, I think, as I sit up slowly.

There aren't a lot of people out there with the ability to help in a situation like this.

Luckily for me, I happen to know one.

He's the only person who could possibly put an end to this disaster.

I retrieve my phone from under the pillow and start to type a message, carefully phrasing every single word.

I hit 'send' and hope he still cares enough about her to come.

* * *

 **December 2017**

"Make a sacrifice?"

I'm not sure I heard the last words right. I look from guard to guard helplessly, waiting for an explanation. They say nothing, just nod in union with a grim expression on their faces. I wonder if this is some kind of sick joke.

"Wh...what sacrifice?

One of them pulls a short knife out of his pocket and makes an attempt to grab my arm.

My whole life flashes before my eyes. So this is it, after I've survived so much danger, even came back from death, a hooded maniac will finish me with no sensible reason. No, I'm not willing to go down like this. I will fight them, with or without magic.

With an unexpected move I slap the knife out of the guard's hand. Having spent my last year with chasing down vampires and demons is definitely paying off.

"What the-"

He doesn't have much time to collect himself because the next kick goes straight to his groin. He drops to his knees and judging by the look on his face, I don't have to worry about him for a few minutes.

Unfortunately the other guard is not that unprepared. He catches me from one side by the neck and holds my head in a death lock. I'm struggling to break free when he hisses in my ear irritated.

"What are you doing, you stupid girl? Are you trying to enrage the council? Do you have a death wish?"

His arm starts to crash my windpipes. I can hardly breathe anymore.

"What does it matter to you?" I manage to force out the words. "They will sacrifice me either way."

Suddenly he drops his arms and asks in a surprised tone, "What?! No, it's just-"

I don't let him finish that because I whirl around and punch him in the face, sending his body to the floor immediately. He lands on his ass while trying to cover his bloody nose with his left hand. I probably broke a finger or two, but it was definitely worth it. I raise my leg, intending to finish what I've started.

"No, no, no, listen to me!" his words come out slurred. "No one's going to sacrifice you! All you have to do is cut your palm, offer your blood to the Keepers as a sign of good faith and you can enter!"

The kick stops mid-air. I blink at him in astonishment.

"What?"

He stands up clumsily, still holding his undoubtedly broken nose, voice comically nasal.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Umm, hello, you abducted me, stripped me from my magic, held me in a cave, put a bag on my head without explanation, gave me this creepy speech about sacrifice, then your asshole friend with the knife... What was I supposed to think?"

"Jesus, it's just tradition! Aren't you a witch?"

"I am." The adrenalin starts to wear off and suddenly I feel very stupid.

"Then you are surely familiar with the traditions of the Keepers?"

I'm staring at my feet, unable to make eye contact anymore.

"Not really. Never heard of them."

"Yeah, it figures." He collects the knife from the floor where the other guard still lays whimpering. "Now proceed with the sacrifice and get out of my sight, girl. I won't let you off the hook so easily next time."

* * *

 **January 2016**

Two weeks later I'm greeted by a very angry person outside my dorm room, accompanied by muffled sounds of crying from inside. I feel a sudden tightness in my stomach. _Caroline._

Before I can rush inside to comfort her, he fixes me in my place with a threatening look. He is probably already contemplating whether he should kill me or not, but for now, he holds back. He is looking at me with something between disgust and disappointment.

"What have you done to her?"

"Hello to you too. Long time no see."

He pushes me against the wall and grabs my neck. I could probably try to fight him with magic but that would only worsen the already dire situation.

"I'm not here to listen to your jokes. You have exactly 30 seconds to come up with an acceptable explanation before I decide to snap your pretty little neck."

"Okay, just let me go."

When he does, I start to explain what has happened since we last met. I confess everything without hesitation, without holding anything back. It's almost like confessing my sins. He seems sympathetic at first, but when I get to the part of choosing to party with her instead of trying to help her snap out of it, he is anything but.

"So how long has she been like this?"

"5 month. Almost 6."

He punches the wall inches from my head, hard.

I've never seen him getting worried about anyone except himself, but I can see he is genuinely shaken now. Suddenly I feel even guiltier than I did before, breaking under the sudden reality of the whole situation.

"Fuck. You should have called earlier."

"I'm sorry, I just... I really needed to-"

"I don't want to hear your explanation. Save it for her. She's inside, waiting for you."

I reach for the doorknob, eyesight blurred by tears. I still manage to turn around and risk an uncertain smile at him.

"Thank you for coming, Klaus."

* * *

 **December 2017**

"I told you once, Veronica, but I'm telling you twice now. She is perfect for the task."

"Like hell, Margaret! She is indisciplined thus unreliable, as you could see from her little show. She is out of control."

"Maybe she is. But that's exactly why it will work out perfectly. She might be angry and wild, but she has the spirit, and that's exactly what we need. She's not afraid to kick some ass and she has basically nothing to lose."

"Language, mother!"

"Come on, Rosa. Don't be such a snobby prude, honey."

Before Rosa - whoever that might be - could strike back, I clear my throat loudly so that they will notice me. All seven of them turns to look at me, some of them with delight, some of them with hostility, and suddenly I'm very much bothered by their undivided attention. Long seconds pass in silence before a man rises from his seat, nods curtly in my direction and starts a pompous monologue.

"Bonnie Sheila Bennett, last witch and heiress to the Bennett line, granddaughter of the late Sheila Bennett, a lifelong ally of the mighty Keepers of Balance, has appeared before the Council of Elders as of 19 December 2017, seeking for admission to the-"

"Enough, Reginald. We don't want her to fall asleep before we could get a word out of her. The formalities are not necessary in this case."

Reginald's face reddens with anger, but he holds his tongue and nods, although judging by his pained expression, he doesn't like to be cut off.

"Fine, Margo. She still has to offer her blood."

"Since your delightful servants has already made the poor thing cut herself, I must agree." She smiles at me and holds up a silver goblet. "Come here, darling. Don't be afraid, we just need a few drops of your blood. I know it's quite barbaric", I can hear Rosa let out an irritated noise at that, "but it's tradition. It's all in the name of good faith."

I step forward, slowly approaching the podium they are sitting at. I feel like I'm standing before court and my trial is about to start, these strangers being my judges. Sitting behind a long table, they all look old and extremely formal in their robe-like attire, except for the woman who has just asked me to offer my blood; she sits there sans robe, an encouraging smile on her face. When I step closer to the podium, I recognize her instantly from the Golden Willow. She is the one who knocked me out. I halt for a millisecond, but I quickly decide against starting an argument with her - I don't want to turn the friendliest of them against me, at least not yet.

After squeezing some of my blood into the cup, I step back and wait for them to start whatever they are about to do. I don't have to wait for long.

"You probably want to know why you are here."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"How much do you know about us?"

"About you?"

"About the Keepers of Balance. Who we are, what we do...?"

Great. This again. How many times do I have to admit that I have never heard of them?

"Umm, let's see...probably...about...ummm...zero."

One of them practically jumps up and points at me accusingly.

"Outrageous! And this is the granddaughter of Sheila!? If this is a joke, it's not in very good taste."

"Hey! I'm not a joke!"

My protest only seems to fuel his rage.

"Hold your tongue, young lady! You are a disgrace to the Bennett line."

"ENOUGH, JASON! SIT DOWN!"

The old lady, probably their leader, is outraged. Even with being unable to use my magic, I can feel hers to pulse dangerously. Not only that, but I can feel the ground tremble slightly, too. She must have an obscene amount of magic.

A minute ago I couldn't have imagined this kind old woman raise her voice, let alone yell at a grown man, but she does exactly that and it is frightening. Jason must share my opinion on this because he sits down without a word. And she's not done yet. She looks around the table, addressing the council in an icy tone.

"From now on if as much as an ill meaning word leaves any of your lips, I will close the meeting, send her home and you can start to find a new solution with a very short notice." Then she adds scornfully, "I bet that will work out just fine."

When no one dares to object, she turns to me again, quickly forcing a pleasant smile on her face.

"All right, dear. Let me brief you in on our history. We are called the Keepers of Balance, or simply the Keepers. Since all of us have magic, we are basically a coven, but not in a traditional meaning of the word. This", she gestures around the table, "is the council of the eldest Keepers. You could say we are their leaders."

"Umm...okay?"

She smiles at me reassuringly. "I'm sure you are _very_ interested in all of our titles and achievements, but I'd rather keep the introduction informal and quick." I only nod in agreement. "My name is Margaret, and this is my daughter Rosa", she turns to the woman who looks constantly annoyed and nothing like her mother, "next to her is my son, Jason, although he has already introduced himself." I can hear disdain dripping from her voice; at least Jason has the decency to look slightly ashamed. "Over there are my great friends Hugo and Archibald", a set of twins, looking at least 70 or 80 year olds, smile and nod at me in union, "and this is Reginald and Veronica." The unfortunate looking couple doesn't react, just stares down at me.

"Well...hello, I'm Bonnie."

"We now that, dear. Some of us already had the pleasure to meet you, although you most certainly don't remember that."

I blink in surprise.

"When?"

"You were still a newborn. You grandmother brought you along to introduce to us. I still remember as if it was yesterday."

I feel tears surging up inside me at the mention of my Grams, but I try to keep them back. I won't cry in front of these people.

"Your grandmother was a great friend of mine and a lifelong ally to our cause; that's why it might seem strange to some of us that Shelia didn't even mention our existence to you. But you have nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Your grandmother and I were very close and I know what great length she was willing to go to protect you from the dangers of the supernatural world. It doesn't surprise me one bit you don't know about us."

I don't know what to say so I just stare at her dumbly while trying to blink away my tears.

"Although The Keepers have been around for decades, we aren't typical in terms of covens. First of all, you aren't born being a Keeper, you earn it. Also, you have to dedicate your whole life to it. For a Keeper, duty always come first."

"What are your duties?"

"We supervise and aim to protect the supernatural balance of our territory. We try to keep in line the supernatural activities when they interfere with the human world too deeply. We prevent the Void to break down the barriers and absorb us. As our name says, we keep the balance: the balance between good and bad, between supernatural and human."

"That's... nice. But how do I fit into the story?"

Margaret leans back and looks at me quizzically, as if contemplating how much can she tell. When she fails to answer, one of the twins takes over.

"As you probably remember, something terrible happened in Mystic Falls over two years ago. A whole convent died after their leader was murdered by a vampire." I gulp and nod nervously. I really don't like the direction in which this conversation is going. "You probably haven't sensed over there in Mystic Falls, at least not yet, but after the Gemini coven disappeared, chaos ensued here in the east coast and it's slowly spreading like cancer. Since almost the whole Gemini coven was also part of the Keepers, we lost our strongest members and couldn't keep the balance anymore. By now vampires and demons roam free, humans stay unprotected. Other covens try to take our place - covens that aren't necessarily driven by good intentions. The Void is getting stronger and stronger every day and its inhabitants are desperate to break free." I shiver at the thought. "Soon you will feel it in Mystic Falls, too."

I'm at a loss about what to say. It's a lot to process. "And what do you need me for? Do you want my help?"

Rosa scoffs at that. "Duh, please. Like that would change anything."

"Rosa, please." Margaret says emphatically, then turns to me. "Although I'm sure you are a powerful witch and would be a great help to our cause, as your grandmother used to be, I'm afraid that wouldn't be enough. We lost almost 50 of our members and we are at the brink of total chaos."

"Then why bring me here?"

Margaret exhales sharply.

"A few month ago Grace Evelyn Parker initiated a meeting and came up with a plan. A plan, which - despite having numerous weak points - is undoubtedly brilliant. So brilliant that we agreed to go along with it, no matter how risky it might be. We are willing to try because not only would it help Mrs. Parker, but it would benefit us greatly. Not only that, but it would solve all of our problems with the balance."

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Yeah, she already mentioned something about bringing her family back. She can't. You of all people should now that! That's some seriously messed up dark magic and even if no-one died in the process, even if we somehow succeeded, I'm still not sure how having Malachai Parker around", I almost spit out his name in disgust, "would help the situation."

"It wouldn't", says someone behind me. I don't even have to turn around to know it's Grace. That sly bitch. "We are not trying to do that." I can hear her getting closer to where I stand.

"Then what are you trying to do?"

She stops right next to me, practically forcing me to face her. The Elders don't say anything.

"We are trying to change the course of events."

I sigh in exasperation. "What events?"

"Events of the past."

I snort incredulously. Hasn't anyone notice that this poor woman has gone crazy? Surely someone will begin to laugh or something.

I turn to look at the council, but they sit there stone-faced. Margaret even nods gravely.

"You can't be serious", I manage to utter, beyond shocked. "That's impossible."

"It's not. Not anymore."

It can't be real. I need more time to process. I can't even think straight right now.

"But...how?"

Grace smiles at me.

"By sending you back to change what went wrong."

My last question is barely more than a whisper.

"Back to where?"

"To 1994."

* * *

 **January 2016**

"Caroline."

My plea hangs between us in the air awkwardly, thick with shame, worry and regret. She sobs into her pillow quietly.

"Caroline, look at me."

She doesn't. She doesn't even stop crying, just shakes her head miserably.

"Please."

"I can't", she whines into the pillow, her voice strangely muffled. "I'm so fucking sorry, Bonnie. I fucked it up so bad." The rest is lost between her uncontrollable sobs.

"What? _You_ are sorry? _I_ am sorry!" I sit on her bed warily.

"Oh, please. What should you possibly be sorry for?" She finally sits up and looks at me. She is a mess. "I was the one who decided to check out of reality, again, and wrecked your life in the process, too. I brought you here, against your will, I treated you like shit, and you still stayed to look out for me. Oh my god, I'm so glad you did. I could've killed someone."

I laugh at that darkly. "Do you really think that? That I only stayed because of you?"

She stops wiping her tears and looks at me confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I did exactly the same thing as you did. I tried to process my pain by running away from it and so I started a new life with a fake identity. I didn't turn off my humanity, sure, but that's only because I can't. Apart from that, I did everything in my power to suppress my memories and emotions as much as humanly possible, trust me."

She fidgets with her blanket.

"So...you didn't feel forced to stay?"

"No. It was my decision and I don't regret it. It was almost fun."

"Fun?"

"Comparing to the earlier events, it was definitely fun. It was easy."

She sighs.

"So what has changed? Why did you text him? I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong, I just... I don't get it."

"I couldn't pretend anymore. We need to face our demons and let go of the pain. This is not the right way."

She engulfs me in a bone-crushing hug. "God knows I don't deserve your friendship."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm no saint either." I manage to break free from her bear-hug. "Clean slate?"

"Clean slate", she echoes, and for the first time in an awfully long time, she smiles at me in a genuine, heartfelt way. I've missed this so much. I need my friend more than ever.

"Will you help me pack?"

The smile freezes on my face.

"What?"

"I'm going with Klaus."

It shouldn't surprise me so much. I shouldn't feel like she stabbed me in the back.

"To where?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"First to New Orleans. Then who knows? We have unlimited time and money. Just imagine, we could go anywhere in the world! I have never really thought about it this way. You know, I... I want to see it all." Her eyes beam with excitement. "For once in my life, I don't want to hold back because others say he is not right for me. I want to let him try to fix me. I want to let him show me all the beauty in the world he promised he would and I want to do it without others judging me." Then she looks at me and her smile falters. "Oh my god, you're totally judging me right now."

"No, I swear I'm not! It's just... I thought you would stay for a while."

She looks confused.

"Stay? Stay where? In Whtimore? Why would we do that? Nothing ties us to this place."

"I didn't mean Whitmore, I thought we could maybe... go back to Mystic Falls?

"What?! No way." She declares, watching me suspiciously. "Bonnie? I thought you said you were ready to move on."

"I am!"

"Uh-uh." The expression on her face says, Suuuuure.

"Look, we left in such a hurry, I'm not even sure I locked the door!" I probably act a little bit too defensive. "And we haven't seen Matt in months! I really miss him, Care."

"Oh." Her face softens a little. "Right. I miss him, too." But then her expression hardens again. "I get that you want to see Matt and clean up the mess you probably didn't leave behind. But. I really, really think you shouldn't move back to Mystic Falls. That wouldn't be healthy. You can't move on with your life at the place where most of your painful memories happened, right? That would never work out."

"Yeah...right."

"I'm serious, Bonnie." She grabs my hand and looks into my eyes with that intense look of hers. "I will never go back. Neither should you."

"Then what should I do?"

"Come with me to New Orleans."

"Right. I'm sure Klaus would love to have me around as a third wheel."

"Don't be like that! You wouldn't have to third wheel us all the time. Like, you would make other friends, too! I've heard great things about New Orleans. One of the biggest witch community is there! It's incredibly rich in magic and culture. I'm sure you would dig it."

Yeah, I'm sure I would. But not like this. Maybe in other life. Still, I put on a smiley face.

"Okay."

"Really? You will come with me?" she practically squeals. I feel absolutely shitty about the lie I'm going to tell.

"Yes, I will. But I really want to go back to Mystic Falls first. Just for a week. Two, tops. Just to see Matt and check on the house. And Elena." I cringe at the last part.

"Bonnie..."

"I know, you won't come. It's fine. But what if I joined you in New Orleans in, let's say, two weeks?"

I can tell she is still suspicious.

"Promise you won't bail on me?"

My smile grows even faker.

"Promise."

Three weeks later I'm still in Mystic Falls. Then another week passes. And a month, too. Caroline slowly gives up on hope I will ever come and leaves for her journey with Klaus around the world. She calls me one last time before they leave and only says, "You won't come."

"No, I don't think I will."

The only answer is a deep sigh and uncomfortable silence. I can't bear it.

"I truly am sorry."

"Don't be. Just promise me you will get out when you're ready. You don't have to come to me, really, go anywhere in the world you'd like. Just please, Bonnie, _please_ get out."

"I will. Someday. Any day now."

* * *

 **December 2017**

"You are all out of your fucking minds if you think I will ever agree to this insanity!" I practically scream now, but I don't even notice. I turn to Grace, seeing red. "I spent 8 goddamn terrible months in 1994 with your delightful son, and let me tell you, that was enough for not only one, but several lifetimes!"

I'm not done with shouting, far from that, but they will never get to hear what insults I was about to throw at them because Margaret raises her hand and I suddenly lose my voice. Trying to scream at someone when you are mute is really useless, not to mention embarrassing, so I give up soon.

"Are you done?"

I nod.

"Good." With that, she waves her hand again and I know I've just got back my ability to speak. "Let me tell you what will happen now. We will explain our plan", I try to protest again but she throws a threatening glance at me, "and you will listen, in silence. If you have questions, you can ask. After that, you will have 24 hours to consider our offer. You can accept and you can decline as well. If you decline, you will wake up in Mystic Falls two days later and won't remember any of this. However, if you accept, we will send you back to 1994."

I really want to go home right now, not feeling like there's anything to really consider, but I don't think I have any other option than go along with what she's proposed.

"Fine. I assume you will tell me more about your plan now?"

Margaret seems to relax a little at that.

"That's right dear. See, it's not much of a story. You probably know that the Gemini always liked to experience with magic. They had very ambitious projects, like the prison world you've had the pleasure to stay in."

I cross my arms in front of my chest and raise an eyebrow.

"Pleasure? Really?"

She ignores my comment.

"Creating prison worlds wasn't their only pet project. Months before Joshua Parker died, he and some of the Gemini had started to work on a rather extraordinary spell. He was determined to try - for the lack of a better word - magical time-travel. Just weeks before his death, they managed to finish the spell. He also calculated the details meticulously, such as how much magic would it take, what would the effects be, both on the world and on the person willing to try it, and so on."

Despite my better judgement, I'm starting to get intrigued. If the spell really works, it really is something huge.

"When he got wind of Malachai's return, he knew he had to do everything in order to protect this powerful weapon from his son, so he handed the spell and the calculations over to the Keepers. Unfortunately, by that time Joshua had become so paranoid, he couldn't trust anyone, not even us. That's probably why he failed to mention that there is a third component to his work. Something he hid carefully, so carefully he didn't mention its existence to anyone, I including his wife. He kept it in complete secret." She chuckles a bit. "Not that we didn't know that such on object must exist. See, spells so powerful always only work once and only by activating a special object tied to them."

"Like the ascendant to the prison world", I say, almost in awe. Margaret smiles.

"Exactly. This object exists to prevent the abuse of magic. I mean, casting a spell so powerful _is_ an abuse of magic on its own, but nature can deal with it one time. But can you imagine what would happen if a spell so powerful could be used unlimited?"

I shiver unintentionally. "I'd rather not even imagine." They nod in agreement.

"What was this third component, again?"

"A medal."

I blink in surpise.

"Sorry?"

"That's right, dear, it's basically a necklace. The spell only works with this particular item."

"And how did you manage to find it?"

"We didn't. Mrs. Parker here did."

"I thought you've just said that no-one knew about it, not even her."

Grace smiles proudly at that.

"I didn't know about it. I had never seen it either. But the moment the Keepers told me about it - about what could be achieved with its help - I knew I had to find it, even if I didn't even know what it was or how it looked."

I turn to her with renewed curiosity.

"How do you find something you know nothing about? That seems almost impossible."

She laughs coldly.

"Trust me, it wasn't easy. It literally took me ages. First I went through his notes, every single one he has left behind. I got nothing. Then I went through the belongings of every single dead Gemini witch. Still, nothing. But", she smiles at me conspiratorially, "the deeper I dug into their notes and spells, the more I understood how their minds worked. By the end of the first year, I knew something with certainty: my husband would not only secure the spell with this item, and double-secure it by hiding it form Malachai, but I was sure he would triple-secure in case our son managed to get it somehow. That's when I realized he would secure it with blood, just as he did with the ascendant." She leaves a couple of minutes for this to sink in.

"You're saying that this necklace also only works with a certain kind of blood?"

"You are a smart girl, Bonnie." She smiles at me. "Yes, that exactly how it works. I was certain it wasn't Parker blood, or any of the Gemini witches, because that would have been too easy for Kai. No, I knew there had to be someone else, a witch, specifically, who helped my husband to create this object, and not only that, but gave blood, too."

"But you still didn't know anything about the necklace itself."

"No, but I knew there is a witch who does. So I visited every single witch with whom Joshua could have ever worked with. Of course I couldn't give them the details, but they were sympathetic enough with the mourning widow, so at least I could get out of them when was the last time they worked with or saw Joshua. None of them knew anything. None of them had seen my husband in years. After another year or so, I became exhausted with the lack of success. At that point I almost gave up."

"But?"

"But then a memory came back to me, almost accidentally. One night I dreamed of the day when we locked Malachai in the prison world. I remembered a witch who was there and whom I somehow hadn't even considered before. I quickly realized what a huge mistake I had made. From that moment, I knew with certainty who created the object. Who gave blood."

"So?" I pretend to be bored by her story, but in reality, by this point I'm absolutely intrigued.

"After I realized who the witch was, I new exactly which object I'd been looking for. I had known about it. I had seen it with my own eyes before. Not only that, but I saw the witch giving it to Joshua. How incredibly stupid I was for not finding out earlier. But after realizing what I was looking for, it was incredibly easy to find out where it could be. I knew that the witch must have it."

"So? Where did you find them?"

"That's the funniest part of the story. In Mystic Falls."

"That's impossible. I'm the only witch in Mystic Falls."

She is smiling at me like maniac.

"Trust me, I know that. I found her in the cemetery. You see, she'd been dead for a few years. Wanna guess the name?"

When I realize what this means, panic rises in my chest and threatens to swallow me in whole. I forget how to breathe.

"No." That's about the only thing I manage to say. "Not this, not again. Not my goddamn blood again."

She tries to hide it, but she is so proud of herself she practically glows.

"The necklace was an old gift from Sheila. She teamed up with the Gemini and with the Keepers on numerous occasions. As you already know, she helped creating the prison world, too. But you probably don't know that a few years later, it was Sheila who needed help from the Gemini with a very dangerous spell. Joshua agreed, although he knew it was extremely risky. Fortunately, everything went according to plan. Sheila was so grateful that she gifted a medal with her blood in it to my husband. Needless to say, it's the most valuable gift a witch can give, and coming from a Bennett witch, it's almost priceless. No wonder Joshua kept it for a really special occasion."

"How did it got in my Grams' grave?"

"Isn't it obvious? He hid it in there, after he handed the spell to the Keepers. Brilliant move."

I still have difficulty with breathing. I'm almost certain I'm going to be sick.

"So now you have the spell and the necklace. And you need my blood too, to make them work." I turn around deliberately slowly, looking at every one of them threateningly. "Over my dead body."

Rosa chuckles at this cruelly. "We already have your blood, remember?" And she holds up the silver goblet I dripped my blood into as a sacrifice, looking absolutely satisfied with herself.

Shiiiiiiiit.

"Great show, right? Oh, we just need it for tradition, it's nothing, dear." Jason joins in, mimicking his mother's earlier words with a huge smirk on his face. "Ha! Bet you didn't see this one coming."

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. The way Margaret looks at his son is positively murderous but that does little to comfort. "That's enough, Jason." The she turns to me with sympathy on her face. "Look, dear, I'm sorry. I really am. But we needed to make sure we've got your blood, in case you are not willing to go back to 1994 yourself. I still hope you will, but if you decline, we will have to go through with the plan, only we will send back someone else."

By now my desperation has slowly turned into anger and I practically shake with rage.

"After everything you just did to me, how could you not know I will never participate in this?"

Margaret offers a knowing smile.

"I really think you should wait with that declaration until you hear the rest of the plan."

"There is nothing you could offer that would possibly make me reconsider."

"I think there might be something", Grace says, her voice barely above a whisper. She wouldn't even look at me. "What if I told you that you could kill my son with your own hands?"

* * *

 _A/N: Dunn-dunn-dunn! Yes, this is a lame time-travel story. Sorry, not sorry. I've tried very hard not to give away this plot twist until the last possible moment and I think I did a great job, hehe. Hope you're ready for this ride!_

 _About the plot: obviously we are slowly running out of flashbacks and soon the only storyline will be the present. By chapter 7, the story will be strictly linear. But who knows what will happen in the next chapter? There is still enough time for a few flashbacks, maybe with Bonnie and Kai...;) Maybe without them. Ha!_

 _About the Caroline/Bonnie parts: I know they are almost useless, and you probably weren't that interested in them. I contemplated a lot whether to cut them out or not, but eventually decided against it. I know you are probably sick of depressed Bonnie too, but all of this has a reason. Obviously Bonnie's life is about to take a huge turn and she has a very serious decision to make, something that a person normally wouldn't even consider unless she has really, like REALLY nothing to lose - that's why I wanted to take emphasis on how shitty her life is at this point. I just hate those stories when they give the heroine no proper reason to sacrifice her whole future, she just does, because...it's the right thing to do? Come on! Ugh, I hate those._

 _About the feedback: Thanks for everyone who followed, favorited, reviewed or PM-d! It really means a lot and gives me insane amount of motivation. You are the best! Unfortunately I don't know when will I have time for a new update, and I don't want to promise something I can't keep. I'll try my best though!_

 _To Madison: Hey, sorry again about making you wait for so long! I really, really appreciated your last review and your praises seriously gave me life! On the humanity switch: I agree with you completely that the show did a poor job portraying it the way it did because it's completely illogical. But on other hand, I LOOOOOVED emotionless Caroline! I loved how she (tried to) stay calm, how she didn't become an uncontrollable and irrational mess like Elena did, and how she said out loud how annoying her self-absorption was (basically what everyone thinks but doesn't dare to say out loud). For me, emotionless Elena or Stefan or Damon was boring, but Caroline was a bitchy goddess! That's why I decided to portray her in the same manner as the show did, although it would have been better to see the actual lack of emotions after the switch in the show. Sorry I don't write as much as you did, I would really love to discuss a lot of thing with you about the story and reflect on everything you wrote but it's 3:15 AM in my country and I'm DEAD. So although I don't have time for that, know that I'm always interested in your opinion and would love to hear what you think about the chapter and the recent turn of events - pleaseplease, write a lot :) XXX Tanya_

* * *

 ** _A/N (7 January 2017): Hey guys, thanks for the positive feedback (especially Madison - you're the best!), it makes me so glad you like this story! That being said, I've come with bad news. As much as I would love to, unfortunately I won't be able to update until February - my priority right now is to finish my thesis so I can FINALLY leave law school behind and become a lawyer. Thought I would finish my thesis sooner, but work makes it seriously difficult to sleep or have a social life, let alone work on my stories. But don't worry, I promise to get back in February and take up right where I left off! In the meantime you can check out my new TVD story, Operation Rebekah (also WIP), which is basically some lighthearted, fast-paced Klaroline/Kalijah fun, nothing too dramatic or dark, so chances are if you're fan of stories like Rinse, repeat, you won't be interested, but feel free to check it out if you feel like it. xxx Tanya_**


End file.
